Great White Fleet
by woolabaloo
Summary: Despite the success of their allies, the Americans are still unable to summon an Kanmusu above the size a heavy cruiser, that is until one day, purely by chance the Battleship Iowa appears. But celebrations of the return of the venerable battleship may be a bit mistaken.
1. Chapter 1: Boredom

Jennifer sighed audibly, turning the sigh into a bored groan as she n flicked through the dozens of channels of daytime television with a dissatisfied stare. Reruns of reality TV shows, B movies, and other "quality television", finally coming to a news report on the rising prices of imported electronics before tossing the remote onto the ottoman with a dejected sigh, glancing furtively at the clock. It hadn't even reached midday.

She reached over to the side table and picked up a random book and thumbed through it briefly before she decided she wasn't interested in the subject of _Awards and Commendations of the United States Navy: Volume_ _1\. She_ huffed slightly, dramatically closing the book shut with a dissatisfied groan.

The television interrupted her pointless efforts to waste time.

"The United States Navy reports that another successful summoning of a warship spirit was undertaken, with the USS San Juan, being successfully returned to service at 5:15 this morning at the facility in Norfolk. Officials stated that-"

Jennifer threw the book to the coffee table and fixed herself to the TV. A slight girl with auburn hair and a white sailor top and skirt bristling with what looked to be near a dozen double barreled turrets stood awkward and confused in a small wading pool as the flashes of cameras went off all around her, doing little to help with the light cruiser's obvious confusion.

Inside the room the television panned through were a near dozen flags, pennants, and all sorts of colorful symbols of Americana and patriotism streaming from the walls with a navy band playing what, despite the actual audio being muted for broadcasting news over, Jennifer assumed were only the most American of songs. This overwhelming display of patriotism was clearly being experienced by San Juan, who, as she was led through the chamber by Navy sailors, gave repeated looks to the hanging pennants with confusion tinged joy.

Soon however the news article switched focus from the San Juan and began to pan around the room with more technical explanations regarding the ceremony that had taken place caused a look of glazed boredom to return to the viewer's eyes. That is until they caught something. On the center of the summoning room, one of the walls hung a US flag, not the standard one found above any modern government building, Jennifer recognized that one from her length amounts of time she stared at the one in the classroom during long winded lectures. On the flag currently displayed on the television the pattern of stars was all wrong, the standard displayed was older from the one in her class, different.

With that Jennifer stood up, excitedly, jumping up in preparation. Firstly she headed to the opposite side of the house to her own room. The cream colored walls, discarded clothes, and dozens of posters, indicated the bedroom of a girl entering her formative years. picking through the piles of clothes and discarded toys her uncle had given up on nagging over, she grabbed the old laptop she'd been using to write school papers.

She gave an excited look to her wall towards one of the many posters she cherished. This particular one bearing a trio of excitedly posed young girls in a variety of colorful sailor outfits and excited centermost one, clearly the excited leader, held her fist, gripping a pistol gripped turret high in the air. Jennifer smiled and hoisted the laptop up victoriously, nearly running put of the room before she remembered the pair of speakers sitting on her half open dresser, snatching them up with her free arm in an excited sprint.

Heading back to the small house's bathroom, she plugged the laptop into the wall and set the speakers up on the counter. Dramatically flipping the computer on with an excited giggle and stepping outside she made sure to set the tub to fill with cold water.

Her task nearly complete she headed down the hall to retrieve her last item, glancing suspiciously at the clock on her way to the furthest room in the house to confirm her Uncle was still at work, of only to avoid having to explain why she was poking about in his closet.

Jennifer opened the closet door and brushed past the mixture of Navy dress and working uniforms to find her quarry, a small footlocker her father had left for her. Having too little room to store it in her own room, she and her Uncle had agreed to leave the mementos in his closet.

Jennifer wasn't sure the origins, all she knew was that the small old wooden box had belonged to 'great grandpa' whether her father referred to her great grandpa or his own she never knew, both had passed away before she was born, but it was a treasure trove of old photos, a neat hat and most importantly she reflected, as she pulled out a blue starred piece of cloth, a very old flag that lived beneath it all. smelling of musk and dust she gingerly removed it and carefully brought it to the bathroom, spreading it flat on the counter behind the laptop with care.

Satisfied with her work, Jennifer set back with a smug grin, verifying that everything was in place before taking to her computer and pulling up the internet

After a brief YouTube search, she decided "8 Hours of American Patriotic Music" would be appropriate and clicking it filled the small tiled room with the sounds of Yankee Doodle. Taking a cross legged seat before the bathtub, hands excitedly held beneath her chin.

She waited.

Her face slowly turned grey with boredom as the minutes ticked by. Sitting alone with the torrent of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" she gave another disinterested sigh and groan. Stretched as she stood up,and she left the bathroom in a huff, turning off the water in disappointment as she left. Throwing herself back into her chair before the television she glancing at the remote and the book she has dramatically thrown down she began pondering what to do about her lack of activities, the sounds of "Yellow Rose of Texas" flowing faintly from down the hall.

She huffed again, bored as the minutes continued to tick by.

She picked up a magazine off the table, discovering it to be a furniture catalogue and spent more time taking into account the dazzling amounts of end tables, sofas, and gaudy wall decor available from Ikea than she should have before sending it to join its friends back at the coffee table and turned her attention to the TV, again, news still blaring as a large map of southern mexico was displayed a woman's voice explaining the middle of the news section.

"After initial setbacks from aggressive abyssal forces The battle for Panama has stabilized after the Royal Navy has sent several of the large gun battleships that US forces have still been unable to call on, despite the earlier setbacks-"

 _A light_

 _"Where are I?" she asked, consciousness returning to her spirit_

 _"Dead"_

 _"But I feel- life. I think someone's calling me."_

 _'Why should I answer the calls of those who so eagerly called my sisters and I worthless? Outdated?! Completely dismissed us?!"_

 _"But we were built to fight! There's a fight out there for sure! I can feel it."_

 _"They built us to fight and discarded us shamefully, the lot can rot, let me rest."_

 _"This is a second chance, a new beginning, the ability to prove ourselves again!"_

 _"No! I will not die unproved and unwanted again simply to hone the skills of others! I am a warship! My sisters were warships, we just weren't given the chance! They stole it from us!"_

 _"Then let us prove it! Answer the call, make the enemy know our guns"_

 _"They aren't the rusted hulks of the Spanish, let me rest, someone else can answer."_

 _"I'm going!" she replied with determination, dipping her fingers into the between of existence. The other gave no reply._

 _"Battleship Iowa setting out!"_


	2. Chapter 2: We'll Sail the Sea Again

_Author's Note: For those that have read this chapter already, know that nothing has changed plotwise, I just expanded the dialogue and in my opinion improved the pacing so it's less rushed, characters might be a little bit more in line with what they are later in the story due to developments of mine, but no revelations or changes to their backstory will occur. In other words, you won't miss anything by not rereading._

Jennifer's quiet and uneventful evening was interrupted as "Bonnie Blue Flag" was replaced with a thunder crash and shattering wood. Eyes wide in alarm she glanced back over the chair and towards the hallway where a cloud of white dust was billowing out from the general direction of the bathroom.

Waving aside the plaster dust Jennifer entered the bathroom warily, peaking herself around the corner. Once inside she was greeted by a scene of utter carnage amongst the bathroom. The ceramic bathtub and a good portion of the left wall was in utter shambles, the tiles crushed and shattered, the mirror, as if provoked by her arrival, suddenly crashed upon the sole other occupant of the room, who let out a soft and pitiful grunt upon it shattering upon their back.

"He-hello?" Jennifer stammered, nervously from her position on the doorframe "Who's there?"

The figure responded with a second groan from underneath the pile of plaster and sheetrock.

"Do you need me to get some help- I can call Uncle Andy! He's super good with these kind of things."

With a cough, the figure, a woman rolled onto her side dropping bits of broken mirror and plaster onto the floor before heaving herself onto her side and propping herself up with her arm, glancing upwards girl with a look that, past the dust obscuring her features, appeared to be of bewilderment rivaling Jennifer's own.

The two gave each other a long moment of uncomprehending expressions before the woman finally, "I uh- I tripped" she explained quietly pulling a foot out of a ruined gash in the side of the tub to demonstrate.

"W-what?" The girl stammered.

"I was in the tub and I tripped…" the woman pointed at the tub before suddenly taking interest in her own hands. "Well that's a new feeling" she muttered half to herself.

"Wh-you in the tub!?"

The woman's confusion deepened, "to be honest I don't remember," she stated before an expression of remembrance took her face, "I think it was the music."

Jennifer's expression of shock slowly took on an edge of excitement "Wait, did you come from the tub? Did it work?"

The woman shrugged from underneath the pile and began to stand up with surprising grace considering the bits of plaster and glass dropping off of her. "But at any rate, sorry about the bathtub, it took me a bit off guard."

The woman stood finally, clad in a modest dress of white, auburn hair pinned, surprisingly neatly given the circumstances, with a gold pin with a small eagle on it. She smiled beneath her dust mask, coughing lightly and offering a hand to Jennifer "Battleship number 4, USS Iowa."

Jennifer let out a squeal of delight before eagerly grasping the ship's hand with both of her own, "here, let's go into the living room! We can-uh, talk! And other stuff! Uncle Andy's going to be so happy!" She tugged the battleship along while the later made a half hearted attempt to dust herself off before allowing herself to be dragged by her enthusiastic host, nearly tearing a second whole through the doorframe from the rapid pace she was pulled at.

Her guest now seated firmly on the living room couch, Jennifer was on the edge of her seat, watching as the battleship, despite obvious attempts to maintain an impassive demeanor, continued to attempt to get used to her new body, fidgeting awkwardly on the couch with her hands folded regally in her lap. After several minutes of the woman being overwhelmed by her surroundings and a mounting desire to break the awkward silence Jennifer spoke up.

"So-uh, how are you doing?"

The woman looked slightly alarmed at the sudden outburst after the period of silent pondering but did a good job of recovering and hiding it. "Uh, let's see, morale seems high but the engineers seem dissatisfied with the quantity of coal I carry and my gunnery officer reports a shortage of ammunition with all artillery, which is interesting of its own accord, being that I actually _have_ artillery apparently, and-" she sighed and grimaced "Apparently the officer of my marines have felt it necessary to tell me that they are 'bored'"

"Oh, I uh, was more wondering if you needed anything like food, but uh, that works"

"Food?"

"Yeah, like snacks and stuff."

Their conversation was interrupted by a horrifying growling noise followed by a pitiful squeak and Iowa clutching her stomach with a mortified expression.

"That may help with the trouble the engineers are giving me."

Jennifer just jumped up excitedly once again, "I thought so when I was with uncle hes in the navy and invited me to see a shipgirl summoning and it was pretty awesome anyway afterwards she was super hungry and ate like a million hamburgers they said she was a destroyer and she was super small not like you youre pretty big which means i bet youre reeeeeaaaally hungry" the young girl squealed with a remarkably audible lack of punctuation as she rushed off to the kitchen leaving a temporarily bewildered Iowa to gather herself and begin to follow.

Jennifer was already tearing apart the kitchen and pulling out all sorts of pots pans and dishes when several thousand tons of American warship finally entered, greeted by a jolly grin as the girl began tearing open bags and opening jars and containers, throwing together ingredients with rushed and messy abandon.

Iowa cast a wary look over the scene, finding herself once again overwhelmed by her surroundings as she pulled herself into a chair.

Soon, the girl, hands now covered with all sorts of mess, returned with a smile dropping a ridiculously messy peanut butter and jelly sandwich, before the battleship. Who stared at it unsure.

"Aren't you hungry."

"Iowa looked unsure, completely foreign to the concept of eating, she picked up the sandwich experimentally, before taking an experimental bite out of the corner.

And then shoving half of it in her mouth, barely able to chew she let out a contented and bread filled moan shortly before the sheer unladylike desperation of her act hit her.

"Suhhy, dnt men to, s'goo"

"I mean- sorry, I didn't mean to grab it all like that-" Iowa explained after several minutes of labored chewing covering her embarrassment..

The girl appeared not to notice, "Uncle bought me lots of stuff for sandwiches if you're still hungry! I have like, 3 whole loafs of bread!" The girl announced happily pulling a loaf out of the closet.

Lieutenant Commander Mitchells cast a forlorn glance towards his watch as he fumbled in his pockets for his keys 10:10, far later than he intended to spend at work, but that was hardly unusual.

Inside the small house, the lights were off, what caught the commander off guard was the rousing chorus of "Dixieland" coming from deep within, despite the lack of lights.

"Jenn? It's late, go to bed, you've got school in the morning", he called down the hallway, "Jenn?" Her questioned upon the lack of response.

Warily the officer peered down the darkened hallway, eyes wide, he noted a large mound of drywall and dust filling the area outside of the bathroom as if an explosion had occurred

Alarmed, he drew to the right, glancing into his own room and upon noting it was still empty, he carefully moved over to his old wooden dresser, opening the top drawer as quietly as he could and pulling open the safe inside, removing the small handgun stored within. "Jenn?" he called apprehensively but to no response.

Carefully he creepy over the rubble of his bathroom, weapon ready but in a low position. While said bathroom was mercifully empty, the inside was a mess, the tub had shattered spilling water all over the broken bits of plaster and wood, one the ruined counter stood a smartphone happily blaring all sorts of Americana music, picking up the phone he eyed it warily before noting it was indeed Jennifer's, he let out a light curse under his breath before proceeding down the hall.

Stepping finally into the kitchen, the light examination he gave deepend his worry and confusion, as whole the cupboards were near bare, the appliances and even the small radio he liked to use while he cooked, stood unmolested. The complete deatruction of the House's food stores also evidenced by the large pile of dirty plates sitting haphazardly on the counter and sink as well as the trashcan near overflowing with the empty wrappers and containers from said pantry.

"Jenn?" The Lieutenant Commander called again, this time turning towards the living room, where a faint glow emanated.

The living room was in better shape than the other two, nearly identical to how he left it, with exception of the unknown woman sleeping soundly in a bundle of blankets on the pull out couch, her back facing towards him, the TV playing what appeared to be his old collections of silent movies, leaving the woman to nap, undisturbed by noise.

Raising the handgun to a low ready he called out with an authoritative and stern voice "Excuse me miss, the hell are you doing in my house?"

The woman stirred slightly muttering under her breath and pulling the sheets over her face, which clearly bore evidence of her role in destroying his bathroom.

"Hey lady!" He called, louder and with more authority.

From the far side of the woman the familiar head of Jennifer popped up, groggy and confused, Mitchells had only the briefest moment to notice it before he noted the woman also groggily eyed him, looking around confused and disoriented until she locked eyes with the handgun.

With sudden action, the woman kicked herself off the couch, pushing Jennifer protectively behind her as the blankets, and pillows were scattered into the air, accompanying the sickening crunch of her aggressive rebound damaging his furnature. When the commander's head finally caught up to what his eyes were showing him he began to size up the woman. Solodly built but graceful in the white summer dress the most notable features were either her expression, which, despite the plaster dust and jam still smeared on it was cold, hostile, and prepared to act or the dizzying array of artillery pieces strapped to a harness on her back, rotating with a deliberate mechanical whir towards his face

Noting the superior firepower Mitchells's gun clattered helplessly on the floor.

Pushing Jennifer protectively behind her, the woman continued to bear her impressive arsenal down on him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Wait! No! It's just Uncle Andy! He lives here too!" The girl loudly protested from behind 11,000 tons of gunboat diplomacy.

The woman glanced down at Jennifer face suddenly softening before turning back to the intruder, "Oh" was all she felt necessary to add, her armaments disappearing behind her.

For his part the Lieutenant Commander simply returned a stare of near absolute confusion, before picking the gun up carefully and setting it on a nearby side table.

"So, you're a uh- a ship? I'm sorry to say I didn't recognize you, were you summoned recently?" He asked, before a twinge of frustration took over, "and what are you going tearing my house up!"

Mitchells followed the guilty gaze that served as Jennifer's response to his query towards the ruined mess of a bathroom.

"Jennifer?" He asked, with some finality

"Yes Uncle Andy?" the girl asked nervously.

"Did you summon a warship in the bathroom?"

"Uh-maybe?" returned Jennifer as she scooted herself behind Iowa, hoping the thick belt armor would block the judgmental stares.

The officer sized the woman up again, "So which ship are you?"

The woman, smiling warmly behind the mask of both ruined bathroom and raided pantry contents, offered her hand near politely enough to eradicate all memories of what the inside of a naval rifle looks like.

"USS Iowa, it's a pleasure." She declared.

"Wait-Iowa? The battleship?"

"That'd be the one," she declared proudly.

"We finally got a battleship?" The asked to no one in particular. "I'm going to have to make some calls…"


	3. Chapter 3

_once again, feedback is appreciated and ideas are welcomed though most of the plot is laid out already._

The phone hung up with an audible click. "That was Admiral Meritz, he's out of town at the moment, but we've go transport on the way, we can get you down to the port and get another shipgirl to help you get integrated and answer the great deal of questions I'm betting you have.. Oh also Jenn?" The man asked turning toward the girl and bringing himself to her level.

"Huh?"

"Admiral whosit was wondering if would you mind accompanying her? it might help her get settled and it certainly would help us in future efforts to summon battleships.

"Really?!" The girl squealed.

"Yes, apparently you're the only one here who knows what they're doing in regards to battleships," he stated flatly before turning to the warship "we can get you settled in a bit nicer there and get my bathroom cleared off your face and clothes."

The woman's face reddened slightly behind the mask of plaster dust, but she simply nodded.

"Anyway, Jenn, grab some things, just a change of clothes and overnights should be plenty".

"Okay!" she exclaimed before grabbing the warship by the wrist and shanghaiing her into the task.

What followed for Iowa was a blur of opening drawers and loud excited comments from the smaller girl in regards to how exciting and great it would be for Iowa to meet the other girls while the ship in question sat upon the bed with an overwhelmed expression.

A knock at the door.

Opening it revealed a man in a similar set of attire to the, by Iowa's standards, oddly dressed lieutenant commander, though better fitting and greener. The newcomer offered a salute, which was returned.

"Thanks for arriving in short order." replied Mitchels before calling down the hall, "You two ready?"

"I'm not packed!" Jennifer mewed.

He sighed "We can take care of that later." He stated "Iowa?"

The woman nodded and stepped out. Beyond the doorframe a dark nighttime was steadily being illuminated by the lights of waking households, in front of the house stood the culprit, two large olive drab military transports idling noisily. A faint whiff of salt on the breeze elicited a small sigh from the warship.

Heading up her advance, the newcomer opened one of the doors to the transports, "Apologies for in advance for the Humvees ma'am, we didn't have much on hand, they're not such a comfortable ride."

Iowa slipped into the vehicle, insides roaring with idling engine and glanced idly about to find herself once again the object of Jennifer's awe, the girl, nearly shaking with excitement was happily grinning in her direction, the battleship returned a polite smile.

As the humvee lurched forward, abandoning the growing crowd of curious neighbors Andy turned back from his seat up front. "Apologies if this is a lot to take in, normally the navy oversees shipgirl returns, the circumstances here are… odd" he finished turning to the smaller of the two women. "We'll just get you situated in somewhere in the dormitories. We have a lot of extra space."

Iowa fidgeted slightly nervously,"So, when you said I was the only battleship… did you mean that? I mean, even so I'm- not exactly built to modern specifications."

"Hell, I know in the end you found yourself in an era outside your expertise and are experiencing some sort of culture shock, but i can assure you battleships are sorely needed, we're in a new conflict, I'll get the debrief be honest the US fleet has so far been almost entirely destroyers and destroyer escorts, aside from yourself the only ships larger than light cruisers have been Vincennes and Witchita, even aside from that the light cruisers have been sparse and overworked. Receiving a battleship will do a heck of a lot to help us win the war. As is we've been relying on the goodwill of the English and Japanese to keep heavier ships in the war. "

"I see," said Iowa, happily. "It's great to know I'm needed. But uh, who exactly are we fighting?"

"The war is a bit of a complicated affair, we can get you debriefed once you're settled, no sense burdening you with excess questions, we'll get you in processed and settled as painlessly as possible and bring that up later."

Iowa spent the rest of the trip happily marveling at the passing neighborhoods, contentedly listening to the others discuss how 12,000 tons of steel warship was procured from a bathtub.

The humvee eventually began to slow down, as the headlights revealed a small glass and brick guardpost blocking their way, aside it a large black and white sign bearing 'United States Navy: Warship Personnel Division'

Pulling into a small underground garage, with several other similar military vehicles, the humvee stopped in front of a small part of gathered military personnel, the forward of most was a rather authoritative woman in the bluer of the two uniforms Iowa had seen.

She eyed the dusty battleship and the others oddly beforing she smiled and offered her hand to the battleship, "Commander, Andrews, Office of Naval Intelligence, it's a pleasure."

Grasping her hand Iowa returned the gesture, "pleasure".

"Apologies Ms. Iowa, I'm sure you're quite overwhelmed by all this hustle and bustle, I'm afraid your arrival was a bit unexpected, we have a small meeting room down the hall where another shipgirl can explain things in detail. We find it tends to help when other girls with the same experiences help explain things."

"I know Atlanta is busy with her sister, who do we have as a stand in?" Mitchells asked.

The Commander's smile faded slightly, "Stewart."

"Oh christ no. Why not just give Iowa the guidelines and have her read them herself, are the Taffys not here?"

"I think the Taffys would either be rendered speechless with fear by an American _battleship_ or spend the entire time blubbering with joy over her being an _American_ battleship. Either way, Stewart is what we have."

The junior commander gave a slightly dejected look, "Alright, lead on, I'll take Jenn down to get settled."

"Bye Iowa!"

Iowa smiled and waved.

The meeting room was simply furnished with a central wooden table, and several potted (and probably fake) plants, the most distinctive feature, greeted with a light sigh by Uncle Andy was the whiteboard at the far end, where someone had erased a large portion of the meticulously recorded meeting notes with a crude drawing of 3 destroyers standing atop what appeared to be a mountain of dead shipgirls.

Guiding Iowa to her seat, commander Andrews began, "First of all, I'd like to thank you on behalf of the United States of America, for answering the call to service, despite the unorthodox methods behind it."

"I did what was expected, personally I'm flattered and honored to still prove of use to the people of this country, I know I was a bit… antiquated in my final days."

"Seeing as we're a tad early for Stewart, if you don't mind me asking, did you have any particular reason for answering now?" The woman began opening a small notebook and pen, "we've attempted dozens of times to go for a battleship, even at the sites of wrecks and museums, yourself included."

Iowa looked embarrassed "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you, everything from my service ending to now is a blank. Apologies"

"No need to apologize, it's the same with the others, we're just admittedly a bit short on heavier ships at the moment. Doing all we can to figure out why"

"If I may ask and I do apologize again, who exactly are we fighting?"

The woman looked briefly surprised "I guess Mitchells left that bit to me. Well, to be honest, not much is known about them. The intelligence community has referred to them as "abyssals", and for the most part the agreement is that they seem to serve as the antithesis of shipgirls, showcasing the brutality and warlike nature of warship instead of the nationalism and defensive spirit."

"I see, and they're attacking the United States?"

"Not the mainland, but they've waged campaigns against pacific holdings and a great deal of other nations."

A knock on the door.

A small girl identifiable to Iowa as either a light cruiser or destroyer entered the room, wearing a similar uniform to the Lieutenant Commander, complete with a slightly oversized cap atop a head with stern expression. "Apologies for my tardiness commander, I was not told you had arrived until just now," she stated, before placing a folder onto the table, opening it and glancing over the contents and paying no mind to the confused battleship.

"Um-excuse me?" Iowa stammered out.

The girl responded to the bewildered and disheveled warship by turning her expression slightly grumpier and glancing down again into the folder. "So, you're the new Battleship? I'm Ensign Steward, DD-22, here to conduct your briefing and potential re-entry into the United States Navy." She stated, clearly reading unenthusiastically from a paper, "Firstly, please provide your type, class, and name."

"USS Iowa, Iowa Class Battleship."

The Intelligence officer interrupted "Stewart we already said-"

The girl's frown intensified. "You are aware that impersonation of a warshup, or withholding of technical information or service history is punishable by up to 20 years in federal penitentiary by section 930, article 14 of the Uniformed Code of Military Justice." she asked critically, closing her book.

Iowa gave a surprised look "Pardon?"

"Excuse me, Stewart?"

Stewart glanced at the officer present, "just asking, ma'am. Apologies to the warship present." She stated unapologetically returning her glare.

"Anyway, Iowa, welcome to the Warship Personnel Division, if I could just get you-."

With a great groan the hinges popped off the door and and a further tiny figure fell into the room into a heap on the floor, the girl, clearly also identifiable as a destroyer, wore a blue skirt with what looked to be the only thing Iowa recognized as a sailor uniform complimenting her ridiculous straw hat. Recovering from her fall and dusting herself off she met the bemused group with a stupid lopsided grin, "uh sorry, Stewart mentioned a battleship and I wanted to sneak a peek," surveying the room she glanced curiously in said battleship's direction, "hey why's a limey cruiser off hanging about here?!"

"Hailey! Would you please-" Andrews began.

"Limey cruiser?!" Iowa asked with slight indignity.

"Yeah, or are we supposed to say British? Sorry, I wanted to see Iowa" the girl defended

"I _am_ Iowa," Iowa defended, "also not British."

The girl scrunched up her nose before glaring up at the officer present. "This is a mean joke commander..."

"With all due respect ma'am I'm afraid I'm lost as well," Stewart asked, "Nothing of her caliber can fool anyone into thinking we have a modern battleship or take on anything above myself in a gunfight."

Iowa gave her a cool stare, "12" guns did a well enough job at Cuba!"

"But real Iowa had big guns-" Haggard said, gesturing with her arms, "like, huge!"

"Hey-Iowa?" Andrews asked.

"Yes?!" The warship demanded

"What's your hull number."

"Battleship, No. 4. As I said," she stated slightly peeved, "I am Iowa of the Iowa class."


	4. Chapter 4

The variety of the looks and the silence that followed her outburst gave Iowa pause.

"Wait, I'm confused…" Haggard exclaimed to the room, breaking the silence as she asked , "what's happening?"

"I-um" Commander Andrews clasped her hands together, deep in 'damage recovery' mode.

"You expected a different ship." Iowa sadly stated, slouching back and casually bending the metal backing of her chair. "Right?"

The woman was silent.

"I should have guessed, I had known the South Carolinas were being built after all." she stated with an empty smile.

"I can't say I know any ship of that class, though I'm hardly an expert, the ship we had mixed you up with was nameship of her class."

There was another short pause, filling the room again with awkward tension.

"So I take it there is still precious little room for a pre dreadnought in a fleet action?"

The refusal of the pause to vacate the room served as the majority of her answer.

"I will also admit that yes, you are less-" the woman paused glancing up at the ceiling to find the proper phrasing "-well designed to suit the naval doctrine we've adopted. The fact that you're not what we expected still doesn't change the importance of your arrival."

"Commander, Vincennes and Witchita both have greater firepower, armor, and speed. Also probably tonnage," Stewart explained out of hand while flipping through her notes and occasionally jotting down more information. She glanced in Iowa's direction, "in my opinion she's probably exactly as unsuited to frontline combat as she expects she is."

"Dammit Stewart you're not helping!"

"Apologies ma'am" Stewart stated unapologetically

"But I don't think she's wrong…" Iowa stated solemnly. "I mean, just over a decade into my service I was told the same thing."

The commander sighed, "Listen Iowa, we're pretty ludicrously short on ships as is. We'll manage to find something you're well suited to do, I promise."

Iowa nodded solemnly.

"But-uh, anyways, I guess I'll redress the interview, are there any questions you had in specific? I seem to have made a mess of things pretty thoroughly."

Iowa shook her head.

"Right well, I'll call this bit off for now, give you some time to recover. I seem to have managed to stress you out even more than being brought back to life did; for that I'm sorry," the woman smiled sympathetically before sending Stewart a serious look that seemed to insert even more over-professionalism into the tiny destroyer Stewart".

The destroyer stiffened further, "ma'am."

"Please escort Iowa to the dormitories and cafeteria, make sure to find her a room and ensure she's comfortable. Following that I think we need a short chat about courtesy and military bearing."

"Ma'am." Stewart confirmed.

As Stewart stood up rapidly in attention and Iowa seemed to pull herself up with great reluctance, Haggard gave a wide glance over the room before sending an adorably thoughtful

expression to the commander "I'm still confused…" she whined quietly.

Stewart per her part ignored the complaint and instead focused on the self loathing battleship hanging her head in front of her. "Miss Iowa, if you'd please follow me, I can show your accommodations". Seemingly unconcerned with whether or not the battleship actually followed, she proceeded out the door in crisp lockstep.

Andrews, upon watching the two ships depart pulled a photo out of her right shoulder pocket, unlocking it.

"Commander?"

"Yes Haggard?"

"I'm still confused" Haggard repeated

"Me too Haggard" Andrews agreed as she typed 'Iowa pre-dreadnaught' into her device's search engine, "me too…"

The stifling silence between Iowa and her escort was broken only sporadically by more of the, as far as Iowa was concerned, bizarrely uniformed sailors. Though Iowa privately estimated they had traveled a mere few hundred feet down the sterile white walls and subtle tiles of the military installation, her escort's silence and the awkward greetings of passing personnel did much to make the journey seem longer.

Eventually they reached a large door reading "authorized personnel only" with a plexiglass barrier housing a particularly unenthusiastic looking marine.

"IDs please." The man asked in a manner reinforcing his unenthusiastic-ness.

Stewart reached into her tiny uniform's shoulder pocket and pulled out a small plastic card from it, holding it up clearly. The Marine responded by giving her a slightly odd look, "Jesus Stewart, I was kidding, there aren't many teenage girls on post, I know who you are"

Stewart appeared to give him a slight glare, though Iowa could now no longer be sure that wasn't just her casual face. "Let's go Iowa".

Beyond the door the atmosphere seemed to lighten slightly, the floors were now (admittedly thinly) carpeted were and flanked by a warmer color of walls. Neither Stewart nor Iowa seemed to notice, or at least neither of their moods improved.

Reaching a set of double doors Stewart guided Iowa to glance inside, revealing a large number of tables in the foreground of a rather large and spacious room. In the far corner was a serving gallery which seemed to lead into a, from Iowa's distant perspective, unusually large kitchen area.

"Cafeterias here. Breakfast is zero six to ten hundred, lunch is eleven hundred to fifteen, dinner fourteen to twenty" Stewart confirmed, before closing the door.

She pointed down the hall, "battleship dorms are down there, I was told to set you up with the cruisers though." She continued walking, "They figured you'd want company".

Picking out a small key, Stewart followed her own guidance and proceeded past several doors before she began unlocking one, still unfocused on Iowa, "If the location or contents of the room are not to your liking let someone know." She stated flatly before opening the door.

The interior of the room was modestly furnished, home to two beds, two desks and a series of lamps and dressers it seemed to Iowa to lack for personality if not for comfort. The woman stopped sighed slightly and sat down on one of the neatly folded and white sheeted beds. Taking a further moment to lament her earlier realization in the meeting room

Stewart finally broke the silence.

"You want some advice?"

Iowa gave her a questioning look.

"Get over it."

Iowa stopped, finding her authoritative tone again "pardon?"

"I said get over it." The girl said, turning and stepping back into the hall, "feeling sorry for yourself won't upgrade your guns or increase your belt."

The door closed leaving Iowa to deal with the anger that now was replacing her self loathing. Eventually she sighed again and laid back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling until sleep overcame her.


	5. Chapter 5

I _owa trudged along, the ghosts in her hull moving too and fro with an eerie spine chilling feeling._

 _Beneath the thick fog beyond her cruel spectres danced sinisterly. She gasped, trying to get a bead on the unknown foes, but they danced cruey beyond her vision._

" _Who's there!" She cried out, but sinister giggles were all that greeted her._

" _Show yourselves!" She raised a turret, pointing the 12 inch guns from phantom to phantom, the thick fog closing in._

 _A figure danced closely and she cried out, pulling the trigger, noticing with alarm that her turrets had disappeared._

 _Banking to the right she put all her horsepower into her screws, churning the seas hard to escape the fog that was closing in on her, but the thick black waters beneath her grasped her screws and pulled her ever deeper, the whispers turning into mocking tones._

 _Though the words were foreign, she understood the meaning of the whispers. Cruel bitter jabs informing her failures as a design._

 _The black waters began pulling, bringing her closer to the fog, the thick boom of foreign guns breaking the cackle of the voices._

 _The thunder of guns._

The knocking staccato of naval rifles.

The knock on the door grew louder

Iowa bolted upright, realizing with slight disgust that she had fallen asleep dressed and following the nightmare a cold sweat now permeated her still dusty clothes.

She stood up hesitantly before deciding that it's ruder to ignore a visitor than to answer the door a bit disheveled.

So she opened the door, finding herself slightly disappointed by the outcome.

Stewart stood as stoic as ever.

"Iowa"

"Stewart".

"I was requested to ensure you eat this morning."

"Thoughtful".

Stewart said nothing instead turning professionally and heading back to whichever soldier shaped box Iowa suspected they stored the girl in. Iowa briefly considered staying in her room to spite the destroyer before a low grumble emanated from her stomach.

The loud bustle behind the counter were the only signs of life in the eating area, though were Iowa honest with herself it was a relief to not have to confront and disappoint any more curious ships.

Sliding up to the counter with her plate Iowa gave her best warm smile to the cooks behind it before eyeing the stacks of pancakes and eggs eagerly.

Iowa paused briefly, plate in hand, as she recalled how much food he human body needed dredging up memories of the men in her own mess hall she grabbed several sausages a few pancakes and a scoop of eggs. Glancing up to give thanks to the cooks she found herself with a few odd stares at her plate's contents and herself. She gave a polite and definitely not awkward smile before scraping a few eggs back into the tray, clearly she had taken too much.

She poured herself a tall glass of coffee before going off and finding an isolated table.

Settling down with her pancakes Iowa found that the breakfast was wonderfully delicious but gone all too quickly and despite her earlier reservations about quantity the plate did little to ease her hunger, even after cleaning the food off of it as well she could without licking the thing.

Iowa was now stuck in a loop. She wanted, no she _needed_ more than she had taken but clearly she had already been pushing the limits of what was considered a polite quantity of food to take. As well getting seconds in of itself was rather presumptuous. Instead she elected to sip on her coffee, clutch her stomach sadly while silently cursing social norms.

She was interrupted in her thoughts by a curious girl peeking her head in. The new girl was an advanced destroyer, similar in construction to the one with the summer tan and ridiculous straw hat. This one however had forgone the hat and seemed less sunkissed.

The girl's expression was cautious until her eyes locked with Iowa, then she smiled warmly and went to grab her own breakfast.

Once again Iowa's desperate efforts to ignore the pain in her stomach were interrupted, this time by the loud slam of a pair of trays the girl had carried in. Each one brimming with food and beverage.

Iowa regarded this tiny angel with awe and gratitude.

Until the girl started eating. From both trays.

Iowa's bliss faded into anguish once again.

The girl offered a syrup and crumb encrusted hand to the battleship.

"Oo eh eh fhankz"

"Pardon?" Iowa

The girl swallowed with great effort. "USS Franks. You can call me Fran, its uh- the best i could do with the name." she exclaimed sheepishly

Iowa stared at the messy hand briefly before noting that she herself was still wearing the remnants of a bathroom on her face. "USS Iowa," charmed.

The girl's eyes went wide. "Oh! You're that limey cruiser that the Navy has impersonating Iowa." The girl look slightly relieved at her revelation ,"glad to meet you, Haggard told me all about you." she smiled, shoving an entire pancake into her mouth and offending a great deal of the battleships sensibilities.

"I'm American!" Iowa defended fiercely.

"Oh! Sorry, I thought I recognized most of the cruisers we had in the war, "probably just got sunk before I was around, no offense!"

Iowa opened her mouth for rebuttal but just sighed and sipped her coffee. While the destroyer ate in peace

"Not hungry?" the girl asked observing Iowa's now virtually sterile plate.

Iowa looked up.

"You don't eat much for a cruiser." Franks observed.

"I-" Iowa began before a loud groan escape from her stomach, sending her face into a deep crimson, "I'm famished actually."

Franks looked confused "then why don't you go eat."

Iowa's blush continued to try and cover for her awkward antics, "I already got too much, the cooks seemed offended." Iowa pleaded as she clutched her stomach.

The smaller of the two glanced down at her own plates. "But everyone here eats a lot. You just got back didn't you? They don't mind if you get more food, Vinny ate so much her first day back one of the cooks was crying."

"It sounded like they minded…"

The girl gave her a blank look then shrugged.

Iowa paused.

The girl rolled her eyes before standing up, returning with a pair of even larger trays brimming with a beautiful plenty of food that she thrust in front of the battleship. "Here."

"Thank you." Iowa muttered sheepishly, eying the tribute happily

In contrast to the escort's voracious appetite, Iowa acknowledged both the existence of and importance of knives as a utensil, breaking off and eating moderate portions of food, though at a much slower rate.

"Can I ask you a question?" the girl look concerned.

Iowa looked up, wiping her mouth in great contrast to the rest of her face "of course."

"Haggard said you were sad about something, why were you sad?" the girl asked concerned.

Iowa avoided the girls serious expression as she searched for an answer "When I was briefed on my return I was" she paused, again searching," I was led to believe I would be used in a role that would have enabled me to make up for past failures. Then was told my expectations were incorrect."

The girl gave a sympathetic look, "that's sad".

Iowa nodded.

"I-" the girl began shyly, "I was really excited when I got back to make up for things. In the war I got attacked by a battleship along with two of my sisters, we didn't sink. But It-it was terrifying and the whole time we knew our sisters to the south were going through an even awfuller time."

The girl paused

"When I got back I also found out i-" the girl blushed and looked away "the battleships scared me too much to fight with them. Even the ones on our side."

"How did you get over that?"

The blush increased "they transferred me to a base where anti submarine warfare is the primary mission."

"Oh. So no battleships."

Franks nodded, the deep crimson on her face remaining.

Iowa smiled "that helps more than you think, thank you Franks."

The all too familiar form of Stewart entered the cafeteria with her usual professional gait, eliciting bitter thoughts from Iowa.

"Franks" she greeted, "Iowa."

"Stewart" Iowa acknowledged.

"The Commander would like to meet with Iowa."

 _Author Shennanigans:_

Yes Iowa is still wearing a plaster facemask, to be honest I just didn't explicitly state she showered and found it funnier this way.

Also yes, Iowa will eventually stop feeling sorry for herself I promise her character is more than self pity. Probably

There maaaaay be a ship (heh) in the future, if there is it has already been decided, for maximum tsun.

As a general question, I wrote this story in two parts, but broke it up to help with flow and to be more consistent. Would people prefer i put effort into longer stories or more frequent updates? Even if the longer stories are a bit more jumbled or the shorter updates break things up a bit more than they should.


	6. Chapter 6

Iowa found herself once again guided down the nondescript and professionally bland walls of administrative section of the base by the girl of much the same description. Iowa found the same hostile silence as before, awkwardly waving at the occasional passing greetings of Navy personnel and marines, who seemed to return the greeting in a frustratingly professional manner.

Stewart continued until the pair of warships reached a governmental lowest bidder purchased wooden door. Stewart, reached crisply to attention gave the door a firm knock

"Come in," Commander Andrew's voice called behind the door. Stewart pulled opened the door, giving Iowa a stoic look and motioning her to enter. "You are dismissed Stewart, thank you."

Stewart saluted crisply and turned about with an about face executed well enough to make any honor guard proud.

Inside the sparsely furnished government room an impromptu meeting had taken place. Behind a large wooden desk Commander Andrews smiled at Iowa in greeting before returning to her previous task of staring intently at bright rectangle and typing on what appeared a compact typewriter. Iowa was tempted to ask about it when she noticed the other occupants in the room, a pair of moderately sized shipgirls absolutely bristling with, in Iowa's opinion, excessive number of small double barreled turrets They appeared to be in an excited and emotional conversation and Iowa noticed with a small amount of frustration that both seemed completely uninterested in her entrance.

They were sisters clearly, similar in clothes and dress, with both wearing a skirt; the further one in a pleated camouflage pattern and the nearer in light grey and short short grey petticoat. Their physical appearance was similar as well with the primary difference being the closer one's glasses and darker tint to her auburn hair.

"Good morning Iowa," Commander Andrews stated, interrupting the battleship's analysis of the newcomers.

"Morning," Iowa stated, giving a lopsided smile through the mixture of pancake and plaster coating her face.

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine, thank you." She turned and sat down, on the nearest chair, heedless of the groaning the furniture made under over 10,000 tons of American warship.

As if provoked by the noise, the pair of cruisers finally stopped their conversation, a heated debate about somewhere called, "Guadalcanal" and gave Iowa a curious expression as if just now realizing she had entered.

"This is USS Atlanta and USS San Juan," the Commander stated pointing to the assembled ships, "light cruisers, Atlanta class. In fact San Juan was summoned a few hours before you."

"It's a pleasure." The light cruiser said warmly, breaking her confused expression, staning up and offering her hand to Iowa.

Iowa smiled and shook it, before another deep blush took her face as the cruiser's change of expression reminded Iowa that she had now passed on Franks' sticky greeting.

Iowa continued to smile disarmingly and totally not awkwardly.

Seeing the exchange Atlanta elected to offer a friendly wave.

"So you're the new battleship?" The first girl asked.

Iowa's expression turned prideful at the word 'battleship' and she definitely didn't strike a heroic pose a little bit. "Yeah, that's me, USS Iowa, Battleship Number 4, at your service." she stated with authority.

"USS, San Juan, Atlanta Class." The girl stated before pulling her sister in a tight arm hug "This shy little lass here is called Atlanta, she's my sister," she mocked in an atrocious pass for a southern accent, eliciting an embarrassed expression from the other girl.

"I told you not to do that!" the older sister exclaimed through her own more genuine southern drawl.

"That doesn't mean I won't stop."

Commander Andrews interjected. "So, Iowa, we were just discussing possible service goals for the two of you, figuring out future assignments based on your skill and design capabilities."

Iowa's expression took a serious turn and her position straightened. "Had you arrived at any conclusions?"

"Nothing concrete, I had been in contact with the admiral and the lead instructor at the academy in Japan, so far we've been mulling over several possibilities. It mostly depends on what your combat capabilities tend to be."

I see" Iowa stared flatly, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

"In terms of posting, it's been discussed in the past forming a 'reserve fleet' of... less modern designs to escort convoys moving out of less than secure areas" the commander stated carefully. "Yourself, Stewart and several other girls we've found would fit in well here."

"If you're found to be put in too much of a risk by putting you in risk of combat at all, you'll either be appointed as an instructor, if the personnel overseeing those programs think you'll fit in, or aid here with administration and other programs."

Iowa stared at the ground silently for a bit before stating sternly, "So those who know have concluded me incapable of normal combat service."

The woman gave a sympathetic recession "That seems likely, yes."

Iowa nodded solemnly.

"It's not all bad," the Commander assuaged, " there are plenty of vessels out there who have found themselves in satisfying no -combat jobs".

"For example Vestal has been working tirelessly in the workshop, fixing up girls and their equipment. She's gotten quite well liked for it."

"Wasn't vestal a repair ship?" San Juan asked innocently before eliciting a yelp as her sister slapped her across the back.

"Um-yes…"

"Listen." Whatever position you end up receiving you are still a warship." The commander addressed the cruisers as well as Oowa "There's a joint training center in Japan that, if you two are willing to attend, should provide you with the know-how to not make a mess of things too badly in your new bodies. We'll find something you can do that you won't hate, that I'll promise"

Iowa's frown brightened slightly. "Right!"

"But to preface the base is in Japan and full of international shipgirls," I'd like to make sure neither of you have a problem interacting with foreign nationals."

"No problem here, ma'am," San Juan stated emotionlessly

"Which foreign nationals?" Iowa asked, slight nervousness still in her voice.

"Mostly Japanese and a few older British girls, the other Europeans tend to learn across the Atlantic at Scapa Flow. Will that be a problem?"

"I don't think so" Iowa mentioned, "I was never in the European War, I only ever struck against the Spanish and I hardly have anything close to hating them."

Andrews looked pleased "Excellent, as long as the two of you maintain your word we should do fine. I'd like to have you two retrained as soon as possible. While I understand you are experts at your own brand of warfare, all of our personnel and all the foreign girls are giving universal refresher courses as policy to ensure smoother operations."

"What sort of refresher courses?"

"Gunnery drills, formation fighting, night fighting, leadership training anti-aircraft drills." The woman cast a sympathetic look to Iowa, "I suspect the last one will be the most difficult for you."

"Like shooting down recon planes?" Iowa asked pride returning to her voice, "Seems a secondary focus, I think my crew and armor have weathered more than a few bombs through those Spanish guns." She stated, proudly pointing towards the 14" of Harvey Armor.

The two cruisers gave her curious looks, San Juan seemed to giggle slightly before Atlanta attempted to slap the grin off of her again.

"What?!" Iowa asked bewildered.

"When did the Commander say her service was?" San Juan asked Atlanta to the side, before being greeted by a rude expression from her sister.

"1898 to 1927." Andrews responded.

"Oh, well she's in for a rude shock." San Juan added before her sister vainly attempted to stop her with a punch her in the leg.

"San Juan, please don't stress out Iowa more than we a;ready have." Commander Andrews stated flatly, "She'll receive the proper training and acclimation in due time. But to answer the confusion Iowa aircraft had a new role in naval warfare in the years after your service."

"I can still figure out my own damn way!" she declared proudly to San Juan.

"Calm down, sis, she needs time to get adjusted." Atlanta defused.

Andrews grimaced "This segways me to why I wanted to talk to you Atlanta. The normal northern convoys to Japan are a tad overstretched at the moment. I'd like to assign you and the destroyers to take these two as escorts and to haul a convoy to Japan, a dual purpose mission."

The girl looked quizzically above her glasses, "Seems easy enough why did you want to talk to me?"

"I wanted to ensure you brought *all* the girls."

"Ah." Atlanta's expression darkened "So this is about Stewart…"

"Leaving her alone here seems cause for even more resentment."

"It still seems a bad idea to bring her."

"I'm not leaving her alone here, you know damn well she'd hate everybody and herself for it. If you think it'd compromise mission effectiveness let me know, otherwise she's going."

Atlanta looked disappointed but says nothing.

"If there are no further issues regarding the upcoming task, I don't have anything more for you. Mission date is set for the 15th."

The two cruisers nodded and headed out, San Juan grinning like an idiot. Iowa herself was preparing to leave when the Commander interrupted.

"Hey Iowa, I wanted to ask, have you've been holding up okay?"

"Um- fine, thanks for asking," she stated confused

"Are you sure? A lot of girls have trouble adjusting and- I did check with the records beforehand, you seem to be the oldest girl currently in service, are you certain nothing bothering you. I have an open door policy."

Iowa frowned slightly, shifting from foot to foot. "I'd be lying if I said all of the changes are welcome or nothing is overwhelming, but I think I should be able to make it through just fine, I just need to figure out how things have gotten out there."

"As I said, If you have any questions I'll be here."

"Actually," Iowa hesitated "how is Jennifer and the Lieutenant Commander? I hadn't talked to her since I was reassigned.

"She's thrilled, they've been bunking down down in the family accommodations until they can get their bathroom fixed. Apparently the theorists are already chomping at the bit to figure out what she did. But I think she's been excited to be here, you could stop by their quarters if you'd like."

Iowa felt her cheeks redden and had mixed hopes about the remnants of said bathroom covering it up, "I'd like that, I do still owe her for being such a generous host."

"I'll let her know," he announced, "in the meantime, I'm here if you need someone to talk to, let me know if there's anything you need, I'll send Stewart to give you a mobile so you can contact me."

"A mobile?"

"It's easier to show than the tell, Stewart will be down later."

"Right!" Iowa agreed definitively.

"Also, I don't mean to offend, but consider asking her to show you how to use the shower when she's there, it's a bit finicky but not too bad. I only mention it because if you weren't aware you still have a bit of plaster on you."

 _ **Author Shenanigans:**_

 _ **I think between this and the next story I'm going to go back and revisit 2-5, I'd like to put a bit more personality into Iowa and add more details about what's going on. There won't be any event changes, just some more detailwork done, so while I will be renaming them when they're updated you can feel free to skip over.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_A thin mist coated the air around Iowa, her breath coming in rapid choppy gasps._

 _Around her shadows moved, "Who's there?!" she cried._

 _The answers not forthcoming, she raised her cannons, scanning the mists with distrustful eyes. Thin shapes dancing in the corners of her eyes, disappearing as she turned to confront them, whispers sounding all around her._

 _"Show yourself!" She called, more nervousness than authority tinting her voice. "Don't make me shoot! I'm a battleship!"_

 _The voices became comprehensible, not in word, but in a thick laugh, spreading evenly throughout the dark fog around her, mocking in tone._

 _Iowa whimpered slightly and became suddenly aware of the mechanical noise of raising cannons and turning turrets. For a few palpable seconds the world was quiet. Then the distant rumble of cannons and flashes sounded through he fog._

 _Iowa moved to dodge, her engines and props sluggish and weak. Shells turning he sea around her, turning it into a frothy storm, impacts tore painfully at her rigging and body and each impact made her body feel heavier as she slowly slipped beneath the waves._

 _When her head slipped beneath the ink black ocean, there was naught but darkness._

Iowa groggily sat back up, her sudden return to consciousness coupled with the uncomfortable nature of her impromptu bed forcing the blood back to her head. She groaned and glanced upwards, noting that the deserted nature of the small post kanmusu library that she had decided to use to read up on her century of absence. Stretching dramatically she glanced down at her book, noting with some shame the large pool of drool that had formed around her chapter title "Black Friday." She wiped the side of her face, and slammed the large book dramatically.

The large pile of books to her left, mentally noted as the "unread" section was a daunting task. She glared at the massive volume titled "A Brief and Authoritative History of the United States, vol. 3 1900-1950" before grumbling slightly and putting it off to the side. Glancing at the self accumulated pile of books, Iowa pulled one off at random, "The Soviet Union" written simply on the title, she tossed that one off hand, the Russians had never been particularly relevant to the US politics in the past.

"Arsenal of Democracy: The American Homefront: 1941-1945"

"No." She muttered aloud.

"Democracy at war: a History of American Military Campaigns 1917-1995"

She sighed, yawned and dramatically opened the book she found herself just starting to become interested as to why the European War was referred to as World War _I_ when a dramatic slam from the far end of the table interrupted her thoughts.

USS Haggard had thrown a rather dramatic time onto the table in front of her labeled "Cruisers of the United Kingdom", shooting Iowa a fierce and determined look.

"Oh, hello," Iowa replied. "Didn't expect anyone to show up in honesty." she stated, waving politely at the destroyer.

"Good morning Iowa!" A cheery southern accent greeted. From behind her.

Turning to greet the second of the newcomer, Iowa returned the greeting cautiously, "Oh uh- hi, Atlanta, right?" she asked pensively.

The girl nodded, "Frank's needed some help in finding research materials, wanted to find good books on English cruisers.," She looked abashed but proud behind her own stack of books, "I'm pretty familiar with the layout of the library."

"Wait why is she reading up on English cruisers?" Iowa asked, a confused expression taking her face.

Opening the book to the first page, Iowa noted that the girl hadn't broken her glare, "I'm going to find out what you are!" She declared to the battleship accusatorily.

Iowa returned the girl's glare with a confused look until the girl pointed dramatically at the title of the book, "Netflix or Youtube might not have anything on Limey boats, but sometimes unconventional tactics are needed "

Atlanta gave a pleading look, "The library is not a 'strange tactic', Haggard, you could learn a lot here."

"Also I'm not British." Iowa stated firmly, pounding a fist into the table in a manner which, if the startled look from Haggard was to be judged was far more aggressive than she had intended.

But Haggard continued, "You can't fool me, you don't look like a Jap or a Kraut and I know no one could convince a French ship to pull it off with that attitude of theirs. I'm smarter than you think limey!

"Haggard is this what this is about?!" Atlanta interjected, "I knew that business about 'improving allied interaction' was nonsense!"

"I told you" Iowa started Ignoring Atlanta, "I'm American."

"No you can't be!" The girl started annoyed, "I know all our heavy cruisers from Pensacola to Des Moines, you're not one of them."

"I'm not a heavy cruiser either!" Iowa defended "I don't even know who those are."

"I read the books on battleship, even your limey ones. You weren't no battleship! Your hull is barely longer than mine!"

"No look-see" Iowa sighed and gripped the bridge of her nose in her hand, "One second" she stated standing up. "Hey Atlanta where's the battleship section?", She demanded annoyed.

"Um- section 938, about halfway down but-"

"Thanks." Iowa replied curtly.

Haggard girl followed with her distrustful scowl still present, which Iowa secretly noted past her own frustration was fairly adorable.

Flipping through her chosen section Iowa grabbed a promising book, "Battleships of the Prewar Period." flipping through the book's content quickly she found herself scowling and tossed the book aggressively aside before picking up a second off the shelf and eventually doing the same. Atlanta's scowling at the haphazard throwing of precious literature.

"Why am I not in these books?" Iowa asked frustratedly Iit's just those damnable dreadnaughts"

Haggard took a smug edge to her glare which prompted Iowa to begin tearing up the shelves in earnest, until Atlanta coughed slightly, an awkward look on her face and her hand hovered over a book, "Pre-Dreadnaughts of the United States Navy".

Iowa glared and cursed bitterly at the title, but nonetheless opened the book, flipping through several pages before arrogantly shoving it in Haggard's face.

"Holy shit, you're old!" Was the only response.

Iowa's face reddened at the response, "I'm not that old! Also watch your language."

"Were you evening fighting the Japs?" Haggard asked mockingly

"We fought the Japanese?" Iowa deadpanned.

Franks mouth opened slightly as if to think of a response.

"Yes. Yes we did." Atlanta answered "How far did you get in those books you were reading?"

"About 1930." Iowa admitted, sheepishly grinding her heel into the carpet, "I had to brush up a bit. the last years were a bit foggy.

"So you know nothing about the Second World War?" Atlanta confirmed

"I mean-gathered it's existence from the references to the European War as 'World War 1', but not in specifics no." Iowa admitted

"Huh. I guess that makes sense. To be honest though books are boring." replied Frank's before a mischievous grin took hold on her face, "why don't we watch some documentaries to clear things up on it?"

"Wait, what's a documentary?"

"It's like a film but it makes you learn stuff." Haggard proclaimed excitedly "They're pretty boring but not as boring as books! 'sides I know a great one that should help out a lot! We should watch it! Franks and Hailey love it too!"

"It's basically a film designed as an informative course on a certain subject, in this case, I've got a few good ones from the BBC." The light cruiser followed excitedly.

"I've got a good one too!" Frank's interjected.

"If you say Inglorious Bastards, I swear to high heck!" Atlanta intoned, a dark tone tinting her southern drawl.

"No i-"

"We're not going to teach her with Tarantino."

"But everyone loves Tarantino!" The girl mewled.

"No!" the older girl countered sternly before turning back to Iowa with a smile vacant of all traces of the previous hostility, "now if you'd like, I can put something on in the common room, might be a tad easier to follow than those books."

Iowa beamed "I'd love to!"

"NO SCOPE!" USS Hailey yelled, thrusting her controller victoriously into the air from her sprawled out position on the bean bag.

"It's not a 'no scope' if you didn't have a scope in the first place." Franks protested.

"It's a bolt action rifle, every kill counts as a no scope if I don't use a scope."

Franks let out an unconvinced grunt, focusing again on the television.

He door loudly slammed open to reveal Haggard, standing dramatically in front of Iowa and Atlanta.

"Hey guys!", Haggard yelled leading the trio of newcomers' charge into the common area "we're going to teach Iowa about the war!"

"Which war?" a- at least to Iowa, new destroyer asked, distractedly looking up from a brutal digital deathmatch with Franks.

" _The_ war"

"Doesn't she know all about the war?" The new ship asked,

"No Hailey, she's like super old!"

"Hey!" Iowa retaliated in an offended tone as she seated herself on the large couch placed in front of the TV, "It all depends on what you use to gauge age!"

Haggard gave her a dismissive look before turning again to the other two destroyers, "she's almost from the Civil War! She probably knew boats that old!"

Atlanta seemed thrilled by the observation, but focused primarily on moving herself directly in front the of the television in order to switch out the disks in the game system the two destroyers were using.

Hailey protested audibly. But was placated by Franks as the later of the two destroyers moved herself down comfortably next to Iowa.

"But our deathmatch-" Hailey whined feebly to Franks, gesturing towards the TV as a the logos and credits of various production agencies began to shift themselves across the screen, light music began

"It's okay Hailey, Franks affirmed."

"It's in color!" The battleship proclaimed excitedly pointing at the pre-program credits and interviews.

"Well this part is," Atlanta affirmed, taking a seat in a chair to the right of Iowa, "the rest is in black and white."

"Oh." Iowa responded, slumping dejectedly as the images switched to wartime footage.

The show began, a series of dramatic images of black and white warfare and somber British narration immediately captured the battleship's attention, the images of wholesale destruction that followed seemed to stir a new feeling every few minutes, mostly she filtered between 'nationalistic pride' and 'outraged anger', silently gloating over there country's achievements or willing hurtful things on hurtful people.

The episode titled "the Fall of France", had just informed her that one of the world's oldest and most powerful superpower had fallen to an upstart new dictator, she sat in quiet and shocked contemplation while a new episode began, the title screen and music dramatically showcasing the "Battle of the Atlantic". Dramatic images of warships and British sailors were scrurrying about anti aircraft guns and launching depth charges, when she felt a small form pressing into her right shoulder.

As the television displayed the cornerstone of the Royal Navy, those shiny new dreadnaughts that were apparantly the best thing ever, larger warships began repeating over the television in a retelling that focused on something called a 'Bismark'. Iowa was more focused however, on the adorable form of Franksh, as the smaller girl had begun to protectively press her face into Iowa's shoulder, guarding herself against the sight of the larger vessels.

Iowa glanced over to Atlanta, the light cruiser was completely enraptured by images of British Battlecruisers sailing mightily across the English channel and seemed to ignore Iowa.

The battleship placed a comforting arm over the destroyer in her charge, and patted her reassuringly over her head. Before the guns of Rodney and Nelson, who Iowa noted scornfully lacked any sort of the decorum or graceful construction her generation had, had sunk the German warship, the destroyer's breathing extended into the long breathing of a peaceful slumber.

Noting this, the battleship yawned slightly, deciding that whatever the British ended up doing to the Italian fleet at Taranto could wait until morning and that, let's face it the Italians hadn't don't anything in any important conflict since Iowa could remember. The 11,000 tons of gunboat diplomacy leaned back into the couch, noting the comforting shallow breathing of the destroyer and closed her eyes shut.

Iowa soon found herself joining Franks. Her sleep was peaceful.


	8. Chapter 8: The Deep Breath

"Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven." The young voice muttered repetitively, a thin veneer of worry on the words.

A knock at the door interrupted.

"Who's there?" The voice called out.

"Atlanta," a friendly voice answered, "can I come in Stewart?"

"Um-sure- I mean- yes ma'am!" Stewart answered standing up fro. Her position on the floor.

The door opened and Atlanta entered surveying Stewart's quarters. The room was large, several crisply laid beds augmented the room along with several dressers and bureaus for each, all in mint condition, the television and couches, intended to be used for groups of girls to watch together sat idly near a small table in the corner. privately Atlanta doubted if Stewart had ever bothered turning it on. The sole signs of occupation was a large American flag on the wall near a desk and a series of historical books and field manuals near the lamp on one of the nightstands. In front of the bed, Stewart had currently laid out a staggering amount of miniature shells and appeared to be keeping count.

Atlanta grimaced internally at the girl standing in rigid attention, still in her neat and crisp Navy uniform.

"I've told you before Stewart stop doing that, at ease, whatever you need me to say," she announced with a frustrated hand wave.

Stewart relaxed ever so slightly, "was there something you needed ma'am?"

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine ma'am. Near full combat effectiveness. Exception being a shortage of Type 2 depth charges and 6.5mm machinegun ammunition, I've made a formal request with supply, but it appear they'll have to special order the ammunition, I apologise for my lack of foresight, but I believe my anti-submarine and anti-aircraft capabilities will be moderately compromised during this operation ."

Alanta sighed, "If you need to talk things through, or need help in Japan, just ask, please."

"I don't think that'll be necessary ma'am, the Japanese are our allies now and have caused little trouble in the past."

"You know that's not the issue here."

"With due respect ma'am, I'm fine, I appreciate the concern."

Atlanta paused briefly, thinking her approach over.

"If that'll be all, ma'am, I have a lot of pre-combat checks to go through again and only-" she checked her watch, "two hours to do them."

Atlanta crossed her arms, "actually Stewart, I'd like to make sure you're set and ready aside from the- existing deficiencies, could you point out what I'm seeing here?" She asked in her signature southern drawl, gesturing at the assembled munitions.

Stewart stiffened briefly before I engaging her report, "Aye, ma'am, I've got three hundred of 76.2mm anti-aircraft shells, seven thousand rounds of 25mm, two thousand rounds of 13mm, four, type two torpedoes, and six type two depth charges." The girl rounded off her numbers with cold accuracy. "As I stated earlier, I'm still short of Machine gun ammunition and depth charges. if we had time to make a requisition we might be able to get some imported, but as is I'll have to go short."

Atlanta grimaced, holding the pause I the air briefly "Stewart I know this is hard on you, I'll talk to the commander, try and get you pulled, I know she'll be agreeable to it."

"That's hardly necessa-"

"Bullshit!" Atlanta interrupted.

"Ma'am?" Stewart questioned uneasily at the outburst

"Stewart, you've spent the last 6 hours acquiring and taking inventory of thousands of rounds of ammunition for weapons you don't even carry."

Stewart glanced at her hands with an alarmed look on her face and back to the ammunition pile, before taking again her characteristic passive look, "apologies ma'am, I've undergone a fair few refits and it must've slipped my mind, i'm-" she hesitated, "I'm still good to go, just need to re-requisition everything."

"I can get you pulled."

"No, I'll go," she stated determinedly before her facade slipped into a defeated grimace, "We both know it'd only start more rumors anyways."

"What's I say about that?"

A half smile passed the smaller ships face, "to tell you if anyone is talking smack so you can put enough 5" rounds up their ass that they'll be shitting high explosives for a week."

"exactly! Don't ever let anyone say you're not the hardest working damn ship in the fleet."

Atlanta brightened and the vague smile on the girl's face.

"Besides, the Japanese girls are great Stewart," Atlanta reassured, "still friendly, that girl Fobuky emailed me last month asking about you, you know."

"Fubuki." Stewart corrected.

"Oh- well, regardless, I'm sure they'd be more than happy to see you there."

"I'm not afraid of the Japanese girls bullying me," Stewart solemnly muttered to the aside, "i'm just- I'm not sure I'm ready for them to see me, particularly with all the-" she trailed, making gestures to the well maintained uniform. "Plus what will the Taffy's say…"

"Come on stew, remember, just how many 5" shells I can put out? besides, the taffies have always been good to you right? That's why we keep them around, nice and mellow compared to other destroyers. Now let's get you some proper ammunition, don't want to miss the setout time."

Standing up, Stewart mumbled an affirmative before weekly heading out the door.

"Hey, if we've got enough time before the operation, we met even be able to stop for ice cream."

"Really?"

The docks as per usual were a bustle of Navy personnel moving supplies, or offloading and loading from the various transport ships that came to and from the post, far down the pier however things were free of incoming forklifts or stacks of pallets. Here all that was present was a single shopgirl sitting on the edge of the dock.

Iowa stared outwards to the pier patiently kicking her feet out over the docks, waiting for the rest of the ships to assemble, while humming slightly to herself between bites of the large, but rapidly shrinking carrot cake on her lap.

Hearing a small set of footsteps behind her, the battleship gave a glance over her shoulder, Franks gave her a war smile, which she returned.

"Hey Iowa!" The girl greeted warmly "Are you waiting for everyone?"

"Yeah." Was Iowa's curt reply before offering the cake to the girl, "carrot cake?"

"I don't like carrots."

"It's not carrots, it's carrot cake, the difference is night and day, besides, I think Atlanta would be upset with us if we ate cake this close to an operation."

"Hey I'm coal fired, means I need constant resupply!" Iowa stated over-defensively gesturing to the large smokestack on her assembled rigging.

Franks laughed, before turning to Iowa and quietly asking "Hey Iowa, how are you feeling about the operation?"

"Pretty excited! It's been over a hundred years since I got to sail under my own power! My boilers are tuned and reading! I've got a near full combat load of shells," Iowa stated excitedly before tapering off "well excepting Gatling Gun ammunition, but apparently for all the future is, you don't even carry simple Gatling Gun rounds."

"Of course!" The girl stated hesitantly.

"But I'm a little nervous too." Iowa reassured softly, noticing the girl's hesitance

"Battleships get nervous?"

"Of course we do!" Iowa reassured, "Destroyers are used to operating alone, bravely ahead with no help, Battleships are used to be told exactly what's up ahead and having a whole bunch of other ships with them."

"oh."

Iowa passed the now quarter of a cake over to the girl, who hesitantly grabbed it. Taking an apprehensive bite, she smiled slightly.

"I'm stuck in a new world with two world wars of design ahead of me, there are airplanes, dreadnoughts, submarines, and all sorts of other nastiness I have no idea how I'll face. On top of that, apparently some of them are possessed by the devil or something. And then who's to say what new fleet policy will do to me when I get to Japan."

"Oh," Franks muttered again through a mouthful of food, noting pensively that Iowa appeared to shiver only after the last statement.

"But at least I've got someone with experience at my back," she announced happily rubbing Franks's head and eliciting an embarrassed squeak from the destroyer. "You can tell me all about what I'm supposed to do when I get there."

"O-ok!" Franks said with newfound determination

"I think we'll do okay, I'll get your back if you get mine, okay?"

A crackling loudspeaker interrupted both their discussion and the sounds of work from the docks behind, "Attention all 'Warship Personnel', report to pier 8", the authoritative man on the speaker repeated himself as Iowa stood up, glancing at the sign above the pier which clearly proclaimed 'pier 7'. Rising, she offered a hand to the smaller girl

"All done?" Iowa asked, looking at the empty plate.

A sheepish nod from the smaller girl elicited a grin from Iowa. "I thought you didn't like carrots?"

"This is different!" She defended! "It tasted sweet! Not like carrots and all."

"I'm only teasing, come on, let's meet up with the others, apparently this is the wrong area."

"Okay!"

"Have you been to Japan recently Fran?"

"Yeah!" The girl stated excitedly, "it's a lot of fun!"

"I look forward to seeing it," Iowa stated, taking Franks's hand.


	9. Chapter 9: Say Again, Over

An hour into her journey and the giddy excitement had only just begun to wane; racing along the top of the cool Pacific waters. For the first time in over a century the Pre-Dreadnaught ruled the waves, the niggling feeling in the back of her mind in regard to her actual combat effectiveness only mildly keeping her from enjoying the crisp and salty ocean air.

She was so preoccupied in the moment she scarcely recognized the sound a of a light cruiser smoothly moving up to her flank "Having fun?" Atlanta called smiling and adjusting her glasses.

In an effort to recover some modicum of class, Iowa attempted to turn her giddy childlike smile into a polite ladylike one. "It's rather beautiful here, don't you think?"

"Yes, it's always lovely to get water beneath our hull once again."

"You can say that again, I had feared I'd be moored up forever."

The pair were interrupted by San Juan completing another lap around the large container ships that fell into their charge; giggling hysterically while Haggard, Franks and Hailey loudly gave chase, yelling enthusiastically before petering out nearby. San Juan threw an arm jovially over her sister's shoulder and eliciting unhappy protests from the older cruiser.

"Hey Iowa!" Hailey waved with an enthusiastically floppy wave, "are you having fun?"

Iowa nodded happily and waved back

"Alright, I don't like to spoil the fun, but I know no one else will," Atlanta began, "but we're pretty far off the shore, I'd like to get a submarine picket set up. Haggard will take the front, Hailey and Franks will take the rear, Iowa will stay in the middle." .

"Awww," the trio of destroyers protested before scattering wildly to their designated positions, rapidly accelerating and loading up their depth charge racks.

Atlanta turned to the lone girl on her far flank, "Stewart!"

"Ma'am!" The girl called, bringing herself into a more rigid cruising position.

"Up front with Haggard."

"Ma'am," came the affirmative

Iowa felt contented once again however, with two destroyers on her front, two on her back and a light cruiser on each flank she once again, in the first time in a century, had a full escort.

Her careless run. Through the sea continuec It wasn't long until she was in a full daydream. Familiar bittersweet feelings of her last trip to Japan with her sisters, the global turn of the century parade they proudly led, the first real international announcement to the glory and power of the US Navy, their voyage from Japan, the united kingdom, and everything inbetween under the title of the "Great White fleet." She found herself mulling over Oregon's love for the "Oriental harbors", when one of her bridge crew loudly and with squeaky voiced professionalism announced an incoming telograph.

"Who's it from?" Iowa asked

A squeaky voice relayed information.

"Really?" Iowa asked confused, "Haggard?"

Pulling out her binnolcuars she gave Haggard a look, the girl returned her a frustrated and impatient glare, taking the battleship by surprise

Opening the message, Iowa's face became one of deepening confusion eliciting a frustrated groan from the warship. "DUCKS ARE FLYING SOUTH GG FROM TF99 DD 555 HAGGARD BB4 IOWA X INCREASE SPEED TO CRUSING SPEED RR SINCERLY YOURS."

Iowa held the piece of paper for several minutes, flipping it repeatedly in confusion, before calling up her wireless operator. "So, it looks like Haggard sent a message to us."

A squeak in the affirmative.

"Do you know what it means?"

A squeak in the negative

"Right-" Iowa muttered rubbing the message, "let's try to get it clarified. We should probably make it simple, a bit informal, ready?"

A squeak in the affirmative.

"Alright, please send Haggard the following: 'USS Iowa, transmitting, stop. Last message unclear, please send clarification, stop'." Iowa finished her message briefly pondering the context, "Okay, go ahead and send that."

With a squeak of the affirmative and the rapid keying of a telegraph set, Iowa sighed, pulled out her binnolcuars and glanced over to the distant location of Haggard, who, for her part looked even more intensely frustrated.

Iowa's communication officer let out a noise to get the warships attention.

"We got another one? Does it have all that nonsense on it."

A squeak in the negative, though Iowa detected a faint hint of frustration on it as she picked up the message, reading it for herself, her face once again scrunched up in frustrated confusion.

"I don't understand, this is just a colon and an open parenthesis." Iowa announced with frustration.

Her coms officer let out a squeak in the affirmative.

"Do you know what this means?"

A squeak in the negative

"Does anyone else know?"

Several more squeaks in the negative.

Iowa sighed, "This isn't working, wheres my semaphore set."

Procuring her flags from deep within her frame, Iowa began waving the pair of brightly colored flags in slow deliberate fashion. Watching Haggard through her optics, iowa noted that the girl's face looked vaguely shocked at the presentation.

M-E-S-S-A-G-E U-N-C-L-E-A-R Iowa transmitted.

Haggard paused, stopped began reaching for her radio set and wildly gesturing to Iowa in the aside as if explaining the situation to an unseen party, Iowa sighed at the realization that a third party had entered the discussion, a quick glance to her flank through her rangefinders revealed Atlanta appearing on the radio in full 'lecture mode'

Haggard for her part gave a defeated look, adjusted her bearing and pulled out her semaphore set and held the flags awkwardly, giving them a few experimental waves in Iowa's direction.

Iowa gave her a confused gesture and was surprised to see the girl's frustration deepen to the point of anger as she violently threw the flag set far into the water, yelling incomphensible things.

Iowa's coms officer gave a squeak of alert, before handing her another message.

Iowa pensively unrolled and read the small slip of paper and sighed to herself.

NO ONE UNDERSTANDS SEMAPHORE, ALSO GO TO CRUISING SPEED.

"Tell her I'm already a touch past cruising speed and not to contact me again if it's unimportant."

The wireless operator loudly announced an affirmative while Iowa shot hateful glances towards the small frustrated girl in the distance.

The wireless operator proudly announced a recieved message.

"Do I need to read it?"

The fairy announced in the affirmative.

"Do I really?" Iowa asked skeptically acusing.

The fairy repeated the assurance.

"Fine," relented, unfurling the small message.

The tiny paper read: HOLY SHIT YOURE SLOW

The high pitched chuckles emenating from her bridge elicited led to a deep frustrated sigh from Iowa, as she gripped the bridge of her nose, before turning to her rigging, "First thing we do at Japan is make sure crew accommodations are reduced to a minimum, anything fun is there is going straight into the harbor. It'll be like the whiskey ban all over againx, except with everything else that makes any of you happy."

The giggling did not subside.

For her part however, despite the shift in mood, Iowa tried still to enjoy the calm roll of the cool Pacific waters beneath her hull, taking a small delight in the cool wind. The other girls were out of talking range, initially this and the lack of further messages served a boon, the quiet soon led to a distant feeling of loneliness. Iowa frowned slightly but continued sailing, the only sounds aside from the distant roar of water beneath the large container ship was water beneath her own hull and her flags flapping In the summer breeze.

"I wish Oregon or maybe even Maine were here," she stated, attempting to break silence, partially to her crew, but mostly to herself. "They were always the quiet ones, Oregon especially would enjoy this." glancing behind her she noted they were outside line of sight from land, "Maine would require some convincing, she never liked getting too far from US ports." she gave a meloncohly sigh. "Maybe they'll come back too."

Several minutes went by, Iowas daydreams and fond recollections of lost memories eating up time. Subconsciously the warship noted her internal clocks told her an hour went by before her fairies interuppted her again, snapping her into reality with an attention grabbing squeak.

"Another message?" Iowa asked hesitantly, "is it from Haggard?"

A squeak in the negative.

"Are you lying to me again?"

Another squeak in the negative, pushy and as serious as high pitched noises can get

Surprised she unrolled the small transmission.

WHAT WONDERS THE WORLD HAS GG TF99 CL-51 ATLANTA TF99 ALL SHIPS X ENEMY AIR CONTACTS RPT ENEMY AIR CONTACT SPOTTED BEARING 24 BY USS HAILEY CLOSE FORMATION AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS RR SO SAY WE ALL

Iowa flipped the piece of paper over as if another clearer message would appear on the back, "these god damn coded messages!" She yelled vainly. "Alright well, whatever the heck this front bit or last bit mean, it says 'enemy air', that means we've got some incoming enemy airplanes right?" She asked hesitantly "bearing two four?"

An unsure squeak sounded from her coms officer.

"Pretty sure it's airplanes." Iowa announced unsure, "regardless, it looks like we're supposed to close formation, so let's wait for Atlanta to fill us in, I guess now's a good time to dust off our secondaries and prove ourselves ready. Also, remind me that we get to Japan I'm not getting rid off all your nice things, I'm trading them for one of those lovely radios everyone is going on about."

She leveled her 12" guns toward the distant horizon, "alright time to sound battle stations, let's show them what a battleship can do!"


	10. Chapter 10: What do we say?

Decelerating from flank speed, Hailey skidded slowly to a halt, a large upswing of wake splashing lightly on the fleet of assembled shipgirls, she flashed them a warm smile and waited as Haggard and Stewart moved in to join the gathering.

Atlanta gave her one of her trademark thoughtful looks and adjusted her glasses, "Hailey.", The cruiser greeted.

"'Lanta!" Hailey confirmed smiling and sing song in her report.

"You reported arial contacts."

Hailey gave an enthusiastic nod, "Sure did, travelling slow, bearing six zero, couldn't tell but there were a lot of them, probably at least a carrier's worth."

"How slow?"

Hailey tool a pensive expression, twiddling her fingers lightly, "Near biplane slow, maybe a bit faster," she announced finally.

Iowa scanned the area with her optics steadily as Atlanta debriefed the girl.

"Any variance in speed, or signs of escort."

"Geez 'lanta, I don't know. Maybe?" Hailey announced defensively.

"I can't see them," Iowa interrupted, "Are you sure they're there?"

"Radar never lies!" Haggard announced proudly, "in fact-" she turned to Atlanta, grinning wildly, "I've picked them up too too!"

Iowa shot Haggard a judgemental look, "You know when I fought the Spanish we beat them without relying too much on things like radar."

"Back in my day-" Haggard countered.

"Right," Atlanta interrupted, focusing herself in the direction of thr incoming aircraft, "looks like two groups of bombers with escort. Odds are they'll be going for larger slower ships, I'd like Iowa up near the container ship. Stewart, you stick with her, the Taffys and San Juan will form a screen. Wait until you're more like than not to hit, I don't want to scatter them prematurely."

A chorus of various acknowledgements went up as the formation broke into its respective orders, leaving Iowa and Stewart aways behind the others.

Iowa idly began checking her ammunition, boiler pressure, coal loads, and other systems. Each station one after the other eagly proclaiming combat readiness.

"Iowa." Stewart said tersely.

"Huh?"

"My anti-aircraft isn't what it used to be, if they get too close you're probably better off just trying to take full evasive action. Make yourself as inconvenient of a target as possible."

"Oh-right."

"Your own anti-aircraft is worthless, throw up what you can to dissuade them, but focus on self preservation not shooting them down, even I'm more useful than you and a single one of the fletchers can bag a hundred times what you could."

"Hey! I'm hardly worthless" Iowa announced defensively, "I'm a battleship! I may be old but I can still fight!"

Stewart looked on blankly.

"Yeah!" Iowa continued to challenge, "I bet I bag more than you do."

Stewart simply sighed and began scanning the horizon.

Iowa smiled and continued loading.

"Visual contact!" San Juan confirmed, breaking the expanded silence of the screen ships operating ahead of Iowa and Stewart. "Damn those are some ugly sons of bitches."

Atlanta raised her optics, "Bearing two-6, speed looks just about over 100 knots. Looks about 100 aircraft in total, all biplanes."

"So who's angry at us now?" Hailey asked pensively.

"If I had to guess, those look like Swordfishes and Gladiators, but it's hard to confirm this far out, did everyone bring VT fused shells?" She asked, casting a particularly accusatory glance at Haggard.

"One time-!" Haggard defended.

Atlanta shook her head and continued to track.

The distant sound of a hundred radial aircraft engines began to faintly buzz as the girls tracked targets and prepared their fire controls. The electric sounds of dozens of twin and single five inch gun turrets turning to effective range at one cut through the air.

A cold silence took the screen, targeting solutions plotted, guns wheeled into position and ammo moved up. The faint sounds of ocean water and the flapping of Battle standards audible above the thing roar of the engines.

The silence was broken abuptly by the roar of a full broadside, Atlanta violently discharging all 14 5" guns on her starboard broadside, she was followed soon by her sister's equally impressive spread, the Taffys soon joined in, each gun erupting one after the other in an irregular staccato of naval gunfire.

The front ranks of the aircraft were absolutely devastated. Despite being Abyssals and organic the 'rules' dictated that their fundemental nature was still of plywood and cloth and the massive barrage of proximity fused AA fire threw devestating holes into the group. Those that survived the intial volley scattered into individual squadrons or planes, many dropping low to avoid the fire as they had with the larger Bismark, a vain attempt with the lower traversing fire of a destroyer, but the formation succeeded in making the planes that remained less appeal targets with the breakup up the groupings.

As if dictated by the murderous bombardment the waves rippled with the shock of a deafening and beastly roar.

"Jesus fuck!" San Juan cried over the radio "What the hell was that?! Is anyone hit."

Atlanta glanced alarmed towards the ships in her charge, the Taffys and her sister appeared unhurt. The seas as well were calm excepting the now dispersed squadrons of aorcrafting

Looking finally back, her alarm ebbed to mild frustration as she was revealed the cause of the explosion. Iowa stood, proudly and domineering, gun smoke trailing out of her 12" guns, the smaller turrets moving to track the scattering Swordfish.

Atlanta let out of sigh, before keying her radio, "Calm down everyone, it was just Iowa's main battery."

The net was quiet for a second as the other ships processed the information through the steady pounding and tracking of 5" guns, "does she know what VT fuses are?" Haggard asked.

"I doubt it," San Juan countered, stealing a glance at the happy grin and what appeared to be excited shouting coming off the battleship "but she seems like she thinks she helping and is definitely having fun."

The sound of medium caliber gunfire interrupted the conversation as San Juan's bofors caught range of a squadron, causing even more losses, before the other ships began to pick up their own fire. The addition of medium caliber guns to the US naval fire left dozens more of the Swordfish down. But still they persisted, driven by mad abysaal urges.

"They're too scattered!" Franks cried, bofors and 5" guns rapidly erupting at a widly differing degrees of fire, "I can't track them all."

"Come on," San Juan retaliated, "They don't have shit on Kates or Zeros, they're not even trying to crash into you!"

The 25mms and .50 Cal's soon joined in, the Abyssals turned from scattered squadrons, to pairs through the growing net of fire. A scant dozen bombers and half the fighters flying near in contact with screen ships.

A mixed squadron of the aircraft, loose in formation rolled downwards, low and level straight towards Hailey. Blocking access to the transports beyond the girl traversed her AA suite towards the incoming aircraft, discharging round after round of high, medium, and small caliber anti air towards the vulnerable biplanes.

One of the first bofors shells found its mark and detonated just above a Gladiator ahead of the destroyer. The plane kicked upwards, fire trailing out its hull and soon took to spiraling in a deadly spiral straight towards the American. Kicking engines into full, Hailey pulled just ahead of the burning Abyssal as it crashed harmlessly into the water.

And she noticed the rest fly on past, straight towards her charges.

"They got through!" She called desperately through her radio.

Iowa was in her element again. She found herself completely focused on the battle, 12" and 8" guns working near full capacity, batteries exchanging empty brass for new shells as fast as they would be able. Ahead of her the screening girls were putting out an outstanding amount of anti aircraft fire, supplemented by Iowa's own even larger guns of course.

Interrupting the battleship's focus, Hailey let out a yell, eliciting Atlanta to look alarmed back behind her gunline, not towards Iowa herself, but towards the pair of torpedo bombers moving low and flying straight and level towards the aging pre dreadnaught, tracer fire and explosions ripping up and down nearby the incoming aircraft ineffectually.

"Stewart!" Iowa called, attempting to alert the girl before realizing she was, in fact the source of said tracer fire.

"Take evasive action!" Stewart rebuttled coldly.

Iowa ignored her, 8" guns clanking with loud mechanical effort into position as gunners sighted the straight and level profiles of the biplanes, her larger battery slowly rotating to join them.

"Fire at will!" Iowa yelled proudly, pumping her fist forward as he thunderous staccato of her secondaries erupted towards the approaching planes.

And straight and ineffectually past them.

"Shit." Iowa cursed bitterly, "I need the fastest reload you can! And someone get the marines up here!"

Closing steadily into torpedo range there was little doubt to Iowa at this point who the intended target was, the ineffectual fire from what few marines she had on deck scored at best glancing blows against the aircraft as Iowa's frustration at missing turned to blatant alarm at the fast closing torpedo delivery platforms.

A large and firey explosion detonated near center of the lead bomber, vapprozing it instantly. The second was only slightly more fortunate, sent into a wild partial spin eliciting and eliciting a cheer from the battleahip at her unknown savior. But a second bout of celebration fell flat in Iowa's throat as the aircraft's wild smoking spin softened expertly into a violent shake and as the bomber closed, a large black shape fell from beneath it into the water. Throwing a forboding long wake into the water towards Iowa.

Cursing bitterly Iowa slammed her engines into full forward thrust, her screws churning up water violently behind her as the torpedo edged ever closer to her.

The back of her mind registered signal flags from the screen ships, probably from Atlanta and something regarding "incoming", but her head was filled with faries desperately calling out ever shrinking distances and a primal desire to escape, screws not yet turning fast enough to give her the speed to pull ahead.

Glancing over at the rapidly closing torpedo a rock filled her stomach and the part of her mind in charge of course and headings realized the torpedo had found its mark.

"Brace for impact!" She screamed to her bridge crew, turning her face protectively away from the projectile. The shouts of the other ships echoing warning and alerts to her and each other were distant and incomprehensible in the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry Oregon," she muttered weakly.


	11. Chapter 11: Promises are Made

Moments ticked by as Iowa's world slowed to a crawl. Her eyes shut firmly in fear and the distant alarmed yelling and sporadic pops of anti-aircraft fire sounding almost as though through glass. Iowa hugged her arms progressively close to her face as he inevitable drew ever closer.

And waited.

A distant part of her mind noting that the sounds of the escorts outgoing fire had finally died down by the time she risked stealing a glance towards the torpedo's path, a confused glance backwards confirmed her observations, the torpedo was gone.

Iowa let out the breath she had just now discovered she had been holding in, taking a moment to calm herself down as her senses returned to her, registering the rest of the fleet conducting last minute scans for aircraft and pulling towards her position, a weak and reassuring wave towards the screen ships died in her arms as she felt a soft shape barrel into her chest hard at flank speed, knocking her briefly backwards and disorienting her further.

Taking a moment to recover herself, she found the small form of the USS Franks embracing her tightly and desperately around the waist. Iowa tried to smile disarmingly but the girl was squeezing ever tighter onto the battleship and her face was buried into Iowa's stomach and the grin and prepared dismissive rebuke fell flat when she felt the steady shaking from the Destroyers arms and the growing wet spots where her face was tightly pressed. The battleship's face softened and she lightly patted the destroyer's sniffling head.

Glancing over her shoulder, Iowa noted that Stewart was in fact the first of the others to arrive, standing in her trademark stiff position, her judgement filled glare drilling into Iowa's Harveyized Steel hull.

Iowa gave her an apologetic and not at all awkward nod. "I uh-" Iowa began, "I screwed it up there."

Steward simply returned her apology with a slow shake of her head, and turned around, sailing slowly away and leaving Iowa alone to administer apologetic and reassuring headpats to 2,500 tons of traumatized combat vessel.

Haggard was the first of the others to arrive, coasting smoothly to a stop alongside the pair, casting a sympathetic glance towards Franks before giving Iowa a cockeyed grin that barely masked her recovering worry. "We thought you were really fucked back there! Fran ran so fast when she saw the plane I'm surprised her boilers haven't ruptured. So how did you dodge it?"

Iowa opened her mouth to answer but found nothing, "hey bridge?"

A squeaky affirmative.

"Why aren't I sinking?" Iowa asked, regretting the words as soon as the tiny arms around her waist tightened in response.

A squeaky answer.

"Huh -" she turned to Haggard, administering a reassuring rub of the head, "Apparantly flying a burning plane makes it hard to drop a torpedo effectively, went right under my hull."

Haggard nodded.

San Juan and Atlanta pulled up, a cheery and clearly relieved smile from San Juan and the look of unfinished business and impending lectures from Atlanta were the only comments made to the affair.

San Juan skidded smoothly to a halt, optics trained on the horizon, towards the bombers origin, wordless to the others and complete ly focused.

Atlanta flipped out a small personal map, surveying intently the group's current and future positions. only when she seemed content with her survey did she turn to Iowa, Franks, and the newly arrived Hailey.

"Iowa what's your top cruising speed?" She asked suddenly.

"Um- about 15 knots, it depends on conditions?" Iowa answered questioningly, "why?"

"Those planes weren't land based, the markings were all wrong."

"Markings?" Iowa asked.

"Royal Navy." San Juan answered.

"And those were Gladiators." Atlanta added

Iowa raised a pensive eyebrow, rubbing the head of the slowly calming destroyer in her charge.

"I'm thinking we might have found Abyssal Princess Glorious."

"Fuck." San Juan muttered. "How do you figure that?"

"Map says we're pretty damn far from any islands and that means they're carrier based Gladiators, ergo, it's gotta be Glorious, no one else carried them in combat with Swordfish like that from my recollection."

Iowa continued headpatting Franks, "who's this Abyssal Princess Gloria?" she interjected.

"Glorious." Atlanta corrected, "Or at least the Abyssal Glorious, she's a Royal Navy aircraft carrier, got sunk back in 1940."

"So, she's a shipgirl firing Abyssals at us?"

"Well-no" Atlanta began, "Essentially summoning a warship's spirit is a weighted coin toss. The noble service and national pride on one side, sinking, prematurely or in ignoble circumstances, killing, and warcrimes on the other."

"When the ship is summoned the coin is flipped, it's weight usually drags it to one side or another, allowing either the good or the bad to escape and leaving the other behind wherever we come from, too weak to escape. In rare cases however both escape either separately or together. Kaga apparently woke up in the middle of the pacific with an Abyssal carrier princess right next to her." Atlanta' expression shifted from informative to inquisitive, "wasn't all of this covered in the briefing packet."

"Uh- probably-" Iowa began, "I was a tad busy."

"Well now you know." San Juan mentioned offhand still peering through her binoculars.

"What are you looking for?" Hailey piped up, "does she have more planes?"

"Escorts." San Juan explained tersely

"When Glorious left port in 1940 she had 4 battleships, 2 battlecruisers and a large concentrations of smaller escorts for her and her sisters." Atlanta began academically, "it's safe to say there's at least a battleship out there," catching Iowa growing smirk she elaborated, "it's far more likely than not to be a dreadnaught, the only ones with experience fighting those are the Taffys."

Iowa put a protective arm around Hailey, recollections the relentless pounding of 14" naval rifles coming to bear. "Right, but contrary to what you may think of me, I'm well versed in being on the receiving end of a dreadnaughts guns, so what's your idea?"

"Run and scream for help." San Juan replied tersely, still staring through her binoculars, her normal teasing attitude lost under the pressures of advancing battleships.

Atlanta sighed, "retreat and make contact with friendly forces yes."

"Right. I'm not sure I can outrun newer battleships"

"We'll address that when it becomes an issue. For now we just need to get moving, we'll settle details on the move," Atlanta turned to the group as a whole, "I want a tighter travelling formation, keep active sonar sweeps up though, I don't want some opportunistic sub putting a hole in our transport just because we stopped looking." Surveying the ships with an authoratative face Atlanta's serious expression softened when she reached Franks's, whose red, puffy, and tear streaked expression had extracted itself from a tear and snot filled crater on Iowa's chest. She sniffled pathetically still.

"Fran, you can escort Iowa, keep other planes and subs off of her, we'll have Haggard take up position up front, she's almost as good as you at hunting subs. Besides, this way we have someone who can help her with radios."

Franks nodded weakly and Iowa felt a small hand take her own in a death grip.

Atlanta gave Franks one last reassuring smile and moved out a flank speed, one by one the others began to follow, Hailey lingered for a moment before addressing the duo, "stay safe and take care of each other okay?"

"Sure!" Iowa replied.

Hailey sped off, leaving the pair alone, in, as far as Iowa was concerned, extremely awkward silence. Her hand once again gripped tightly by the destroyer's own extremely unsanitary hands.

After several minutes Frank's weakly broke the barrier, "Hey Iowa." she muttered softly

"Hmm?"

"Promise me you won't do that again? Put yourself in danger like that."

"I'm a warship Fran-," Iowa began before the vice grip on her hand intensified, "okay, here," Iowa began, taking a crouch to bring her face level to the pathetically distrought expression of Franks, "I promise I'll keep the odds in my favor and never attack anyone I don't know I can beat for sure."

Franks said nothing but embraced the battleship tightly around the neck.

"Hey, come on now, we've got too try and catch up with the others, I'm coal fired and slow enough as is."

Franks nodded and slowly released her arms, Iowa took her hand, slowly accelerating alongside the girl towards the rest of the convoy.


	12. Chapter 12: We are Zubian

_this chapter is a bit of an unplanned story for the overall plot, it won't derail anything and I'll try to keep from introducing too many more OCs in the future, but it seemed a good way to reflect dialogue without just having Franks and Iowa yelling. But regardless things will be either mostly on track for the future or feature this arc going a bit off, but either way the ending and major pllt is the same._

Zubian yawned loudly, though taking care to block to mic on her headset with her hand as she slowly coasted through the warm ocean waters. Her patchwork skirt and hastily repaired red coat dancing in the shifting winds.

"Tired yet?" Ardent teased from her flank, eliciting a girlish scowl from Zubian.

"We're rested!" Zubian hissed, making a show of scanning the archipelagos, "just bored."

"Right," Ardent replied, suddenly disinterested in teasing her counterpart further and instead focusing on the duo of Japanese ships behind them. The more forward of their Japanese counterparts continued as she had for the entire trip, grumbling to herself in low angry tones and scanning the islands.

"What's up her bum?" Zubian asked, noting Arden's gaze while blatantly indicating with pointed finger towards the destroyer in plain view of the ship in question.

"Probably just miffed we don't have nothing to do out here," Ardent speculated.

"Can't say we blame her."

"Not a lick."

The vessel's grumbling grew louder, though still inaudible for the rest as she kicked angrily at the incoming waves.

"What are you on about?" Ardent asked, turning about again

"Just tired of all these shitty patrols we keep getting sent on. So useless!" she spat angrily, kicking another wave. "All this admiral does is send us to stare at islands and no matter what I say we keep getting sent!"

"Right, complaining about complaining, nice bit there." Ardent replied dryly.

"What, you asked!" Akebono retaliated angrily.

"You did ask," Zubian defended casually

Ardent sighed staring up at the sky, "I am actively praying for an air attack now, a big one, big enough to sink all of us."

Akebono looked even angrier, but thankfully as far as Ardent was concerned, she held her tongue, allowing Ardent to do a map recon of the surrounding archipelago in silence, trying to plot routes and possible alterations in her patrol route.

The blissful silence continued on even less than Ardent had expected, as Zubian interrupted not 30 seconds later. "You reckon any pirates got out here back in the day?" Zubian asked offhand, staring a bit too intently at a nearby picturesque beach, "We reckon there were pirates."

"I don't think the kind of pirates you were after are way out here mate." Ardent answered while pulling the map up between Zubian and her in an attempt to passive aggressively end the conversation through improvised barrier

"Says you!," Zubian countered with a pout before addressing the fourth of their patrol, "Oi!"

The fourth girl continued as she had uninterrupted, happily staring away at the passing remote islands, gazing intently at the lush picturesque jungles and sunny beaches as the foursome headed along, swaying slightly as she clutched her sticker coated turret as if listening to a nameless tune.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Akebono defended loudly. "She doesn't like you bugging her!"

"We just want to ask her about the pirates,"

"I told you, there aren't any bloody pirates." Ardent interrupted.

"Just leave her alone!" Akebono spat.

"And we're pretty sure there were!" Zubian spat before reattempting to get the attention of their fourth member. "Oi! Oo-shoes."

"That's not even a bit right," Ardent flatly stated.

Akebono looked distinctly angry, though Akebono always looked angry.

Zubian cupped her hands and shouted towards the destroyer, "OI, OO-SHOES,"

Ushio let out a startled yelp, jumping backwards and glancing over Zubian with confused and alarmed eyes gripping her turret as a shield between her and the surprising outburst of the British a short time of threat processing she recovered from her tremble and peaked slightly above her turret, returning to her expression of tentative unease.

"Fucking christ!" Ardent exclaimed. "You've nearly gone and made the poor girl piss herself!"

"I told you to leave her alone!" Akebono spat angrily.

"I'm- I'm okay," Ushio exclaimed between calming breaths, "just-um, just a bit startled," she exclaimed, red in the face and avoiding Zubian's gaze.

"Right, what do you think about the pirates!" Zubian asked excitedly, ignorant of the girl's nervousness, "we think they probably buried a lot of good stuff out here, Ardent thinks not."

"Don't lump me in with your shitty theories!" Akebono declared. She gave a stern but somewhat sympathetic look to her countryman as she crossed her arms disdainfully, "you don't have to answer them Ushio, they're just a bunch of morons with stupid ideas."

"We weren't lumping you in with shit." Zubian declared, "'sides we never said she had to answer, it's all in good fun."

"Um-" Ushio began, nervously clutching her turret "there-there could have been pirates." she stammered.

"See!" Zubian declared proudly.

"That's hardly a decisive statement." Ardent declared, rolling her eyes at Zubian.

"Well you can't have any treasure we find."

"There is no treasure!" Ardent responded.

"Well, as soon as that metal detector we ordered arri-"

A sound of voices from the headset round her ears

interrupted Zubian.

"Wait, hold the bloody phone- or" she moved the mic on her headset down, "I guess that's our job-"

"~this is Zubian~" she sing-songed into the mic.

"I've got someone!" the voice happily declared to someone outside the conversation with Zubian. "Zubian, this is Franks, we're about 200 miles due east of Japan with a load of angry Abyssals chasing us, can you get some help for us?"

"Hold on a tick," Zubian answered before the small bits of commo training she paid attention to returned to her, "we mean-uh, wait one."

She covered the mic, despite again not keying it in the first place "Oi! Ardent," she called to her British counterpart "Your girlfriend needs your help."

Ardent shot a confused glare, "Who the hell are you talking about?"

"You know, that Yankee lady you're always sending love letters and chocolates to?" Zubian replied seriously.

"For God's sake, she's not my girlfriend. I've told you; My psychiatrist said-" Ardet gripped the bridge of her nose in frustration, "just give me the goddamned headset."

Zubian obliged, realizing the frustration she caused and grinning merrily at her self proclaimed victory.

"This is Ardent." Ardent stated tersely upon donning the headset

"~Hey Ardent~!" Franks replied merrily, though through a thin veneer of stress.

"What's the issue?"

"We've-uh- we've got ourselves in a tough situation…"

"How tough?"

The voice on the other end was silent for a short period of time, "San Juan says about fiftern but, it's hard to tell, we just see smoke columns now."

"Right, do you know what they are?"

"Well, at least one carrier, possibly some Battleships or battlecruisers."

"Oh." Replied Ardent, "that's a right bit of a pickle there- We've got four destroyers here, where about are you?"

"One sec." Franks replied. A minute's of pause revealed the answer, "Golf Sierra. one. three. four. six, about 200 miles out from Japan."

"Right, that's a bit nasty. We're nearby, will try and help out, but I've fired enough of me four and a halfs at battleships to know it's pretty fucking worthless, you know what kind they are?"

"Uh-" Franks hesitated briefly, "they're probably British."

"Ah, well, that is tragic there. Not like the Bosch or Italians chasing you down, right proper British vessels," she paused thinking, "can you not outrun them?"

"Uh-no, we've uh-" Ardent detected a deliberate effort to avoid treading on an as of yet unseen ships feeling, "We're currently a bit of an off roster."

"Right." Ardent answered tersely, pushing the headset back into the hands of a confused Zubian, who unsteadily donned the piece and flipped the mic down. "Contact Task Force Teacake, get them northward," Ardent explained. "They should be enough to assist"

Zubian nodded and began to process the orders. Without instruction her faeries began adjusting soundboards while she awkwardly fiddled with the headset up and down, after a short time a squeak of accomplishment sounded and static began to flow through her headset.

"Hello?!" An excited accented voice practically yelled through in English in response to the channel change, causing Zubian to flinch. "You have Kongou!"

"Kongou, we are Zubian," the destroyer explained, recovering steadily from the aural bombardment,"we've got some ships about 100 miles off of you under threat of enemy fleet attack, can you give them a bit of a hand?"

"Hai!" She replied with loud excitement "We will show them what we're made of! We'll set off right away!" Kongou sounded to turn away from her comms equipment and began excitedly talking in Japanese to whatever ships she found herself with.

"Hello?" Zubian asked tentatively.

The mic was silent, "hello?" She repeated.

"We'll be there soon ~bye" the reply sang with sudden quickness before Zubian heard the sound of a radio being somehow hung up.

"Are they coming?" Ardent asked tenatively

Zubian paused briefly before acknowledging the comment, "I don't know what the hell they're doing, or even if they know where they're going, but they seem to have a goal."

"Eh, they're like that, should be fine."

"But how?"

"Try not to think about it." Ardent replied, before turning around to her other charges, "Ushio, Akeboner, we need to get moving, provide some cover to our Yankee friends."

"Hai- uh- yes!" Ushio stammered, barely audible over Akebono's loud, intensely irritated, and probably correct complaints over her name being intentionally mispronounced.

"Right!" Declared Zubian fist pumped forward. "Let's go!"


	13. Chapter 13: A Hot Mess

"They're almost in range," San Juan stated tersely, peeking through her binoculars towards the incoming shadows on the horizon. "I'm estimating about 30 miles out, speed still at about 30 knots."

Atlanta didn't respond, instead fidgeted slightly with her anchor chain as she watched the incoming smoke extending over the horizon.

"They seem to be pushing themselves pretty damn hard, maybe they'll get tired and give up?" San Juan suggested with feigned sincerity, looking back in Iowa's direction.

Iowa swayed slightly, he clothes ruffled and undignified, drenched in sweat and panting audibly, the battleship did her best at keeping up appearances by offering a chipper thumbs up and a tired grin to San Juan. Her boilers in full throttle building heat, strain, and pressure up in her in the last hours of running herself past her engineering standards.

Next to her, was USS Franks, who appeared extremely distressed as to the slow pace of the squadron, casting anxious glances to the smokestacks on the horizon, intensely aware of their slow pace but caught between her sympathy for Iowa Franks seemed stuck between advocating for speeding up or slowing down.

Around in close proximity, the other three destroyers appeared to share similar levels of discomfort despite their earlier serious and stalwart attitude towards the aerial attacked. The smaller vessels all seemed acutely aware of their lack of suitability for open water naval gunfights. Even Stewart betrayed herself to Iowa and stole a rare glance towards the pillars of smoke with an uneasy expression.

Iowa sighed audibly, attempting to break up tension "Eh, we'll get there fine, if worse comes to worse I've never had a problem shrugging off a few shells to the belt." Iowa replied, with only slightly more sincerity than San Juan's earlier statement and between quick tired gasps of breath.

None of the other girls seemed convinced, but San Juan gave another encouraging grin, "hopefully it doesn't come to that, the Kongous are pretty fast and pack a heck of a punch from what I hear, we should be fine once they arrive."

"But they didn't even say when they'd get here!" Haggard replied, throwing her arms up crossly and still clearly angry at the lack of communication that the other squadron had expressed.

"Eh, they're just a bit odd, I'm sure they're well on their way."

"They do reportedly have a knack for showing up when needed." Atlanta confirmed dryly.

"If all else fails, Ardent and her girls are coming!" San Juan affirmed. Iowa noted a small smile encroach upon Franks's face, "That's quite a few more torpedos and a hell of a smokescreen we can lay, which should keep us safe until the Kongous arrive."

Haggard seemed sullenly unconvinced, but Iowa could see expressions of improvement on her sisters faces.

The wake beneath Iowa's hull continued to churn as she pushed herself through at full speed. Beneath her hull, she could feel her boiler heating up at the rapid work of her engineering crew slowly getting more and more alarmed at the increasing pace.

A fairy in thick black soot and an adorably oversized wrench introduced itself upon her bridge.

"How bad?" Iowa asked, gritting her teeth and pushing through the strain.

The fairy let out some choice angry squeaks.

"Yeah, so would a 14" gun, we need to keep pushing, we can damage control later."

The squeaks intensified and the adorably tiny figure waved it's wrench about.

"Yes, I'm sure, if we slow down we die, if we don't slow down, I *might* explode, lesser of two evils here." Iowa exclaimed, wiping her brown with a handkerchief, "believe me, I agree, this really sucks."

The fairy's squeaks became grumbles of protest.

"Just try to keep me from exploding or something from breaking"

The fairy let out a reluctant affirmative and continued down to the boiler room.

The brief silence that expanded following Iowa's fight with her engineering crew was interrupted by Hailey as the destoryer took a serious expression and turned herself towards the horizon, staring intently at a cloud bank, "Hey, I've sighted that aircraft again."

"How far out is it?" San Juan asked, returning to near obsessively watching the ships.

"Still hanging out at the distant edge of our sight." Hailey sulked, "too far for five inchers."

"Yeah I see him too, the little bastard." Haggard snarled, shaking her fist as conspicuously as possible at the distant spec, "Just a bit closer and we can fill him with holes!"

"Language!" Atlanta admonished.

"Come on 'lanta, there's a time and a place," San Juan interjected, before her look backwards caught the exhausted form of Iowa, bringing a look of concern to her face, "Hey, Iowa." She asked, "You kind of look like shit, no offense. Do you need us to slow down?"

"I'm fine," the battleship wheezed with attempted stoicism. Pushing through her pain. "Just a bit winded."

"No, no you're plainly near breaking," San Juan stated flatly, "just how pissed off is your engineering staff right now?"

"I'm fine."

"Seriously." San Juan asked, "how far past you operation capabilities are you right now."

"Just a tad." Iowa plainly lied.

"Pushing yourself too hard is going to break something, a still battleship is worse than a slow battleship." San Juan explained.

"I've done worse," Iowa explained

"Aren't you coal powered? Does overdoing you boiler risk explosion or some shit?" Haggard questioned.

Iowa's hestiated slightly, betraying her lack of confidence to the contrary. "A boiler explosion is not going to kill me any more than that gunfire would."

"Jesus Iowa, we're just buying time. Atlanta, we need to slow down or Iowa is going to explode." San Juan cried, jesturing her sister's attention towards the struggling battleship.

Atlanta glanced uneasily at the horizon.

"I'm fine, I know what if could handle." Iowa panted laboriously.

"We're slowing down." Atlanta finally declared, "fifteen knots."

"We need to keep moving!" Iowa demanded angry and exhausted, "that's a hell of a lot of firepower over there," she exhaustedly gestured towards the horizon.

Interrupting her martyrdom, a hand tugged at Iowa's own sweat drenched arm. "Iowa, you promised." Franks pleaded.

"We need to keep moving." Iowa protested weakly before finally succumbing with a defeated grimace. "Okay," she said to Atlanta with a sense of finality and slowing in the water, "setting speed fifteen knots."

Her screws slowed and she felt as if a weight lifted off her lungs, or whatever passed for her lungs as Iowa decelerated slightly, easing into the water at reduced speed.

Franks smiled slightly and Iowa heard a cheer go up amongst her engineering crew. But the glance she stole towards the horizon betrayed the enemy encroaching ever closer.

"Well at least now if Iowa explodes today, it won't be her own damn fault," Haggard exclaimed with a lopsided grin before being admonished by Atlanta.

"I'd still rather go faster." Iowa sullenly declared.

"And I'd rather you didn't explode," Atlanta chided.

"Hey! Look!" Hailey suddenly cried excitedly, pointed outwards in the direction opposite of the smoke. Straining her eyes, Iowa noticed the forms of a quad of destroyers, their leader proudly flying the union jack and waving a joyful full armed wave and barreling ahead towards the Americans, behind her the three girls had a surprising range of expressions from gleeful enthusiasm to utter disdain.

"That Ardent?" Iowa asked through heavy breaths.

"Yup!" Franks answered through returns of the British girl's enthusiastic wave.

"Huh," was Iowa's sole reply.

Steadily the figures gpcrew larger, Ardent's jolly grin barely subsiding in the good half hour before her arrival, the angry destoryer and gleefully enthusiastic destoryer appeared continuously bickering as the column approached with their leader occasionally making an comment unheard to the Americans that inevitably caused one or both of the others anger.

Eventually, coming into good range, Ardent restarted her full armed wave and called out. "Hey Fran!" she yelled at Frank's while speeding happily towards the American formation, "it's good to see you!"

"You too!" Franks greeted before the smile on her face faded slightly, "it'd be nice if there wasn't because of a whole fleet of Abysaal after us."

"Speaking of which, "San Juan," cut in tersely, "as much as I love heartwarming reunions, we should pick up what ground we can and try and move."

"What's cruising speed?" Ardent asked from aside her friend, moving to settle smoothly into formation.

"Fifteen knots."

"We'll pick it up to eighteen if Iowa thinks she can handle it." Atlanta stated questioningly towards Iowa.

"Are you crazy?!" One of the newcomers from the back asked, pushing past Haggard, "that's slow as hell! No way we can outrun the Abyssals like that, they're like 20 kilometers away!"

"Yes, we're aware," San Juan stated with a tint of anger, "it's the fastest pace possible."

Akebono cast an angry glare towards Iowa and the battleship picked up some choice words to the quality of turn of the century battleship construction priorities. The American returned the angry glare as the Japanese ship fell into place next to her terrified looking countryman.

Atlanta, led off the formation and, screws biting into the water, Iowa followed suit, taking her usual place at the center of the formation, surrounded even more thickly now with a healthy layer of destroyers.

Ardent and Franks stood near to her left flank, catching up with smiles but a thin undertone of tense nervousness. Given the current undertone of their situation, Iowa was surprised at even the vague normalacy of it all.

It wasn't until she had gained speed that Iowa stopped paying attention to Ardent and Franks and noticed the form of a ship matching pace with her. A British destoryer clad similarly to Ardent but with her Navy cap worn more casually over her short blonde hair and bearing "HMS ZUBIAN" upon it. "So who's this lot?" the newcomer asked through her accent

"Who? Me?" Replied Iowa indignantly.

The girl approached closer, poking Iowa slightly on the arm and prodding and pulling her sweat stained clothes, "Yeah, we mean you. You some kind of Ruskie? One of those old boats they dragged through the war or sumfin?" she asked lifting and examining the battleahip's right arm.

"No, I'm the USS Iowa." Iowa stated and jerked her hand away. "I'm American"

"We've been on Iowa- not in a weird way," she affirmed, slightly flustered, "they run tours on the ship." The girl explained, "anyway, when we checked the boat out, there was big sixteen inch guns and lots of turrets. But the Ruskie boats were a bunch of shit old ones, back from before even my time."

Iowa found her angry rebuttle killed between her still winded breaths, "Different Iowa." She explained simply.

"Oh right," Zubian seemed pleased by the response, "like how after we were scrapped the Navy built us some replacements in the next war?"

"Uh- sure?" Iowa asked.

"Yeah it's about the same."

The next few minutes of sailing turned into repeated lackidasical questions about who Iowa was and what she did in the war. Iowa's terse replies and the incoming battleship column did little to dissuade to jolly little destroyer from her excited questions.

"So you must not be such a fan of the Spanish if-"

"Oh tosser!" Ardent loudly interrupted from Iowa's flank. Whirling between the destroyer and what her alarmed expression gazed at, Iowa hear the noises of a distant rolling thunder and a glance at the series of flashes beneath the column of smoke confirmed her suspicions.

"damn it" She stated flatly.


	14. Chapter 14: Shot Over

Iowa was only tangentially aware of Ardent's desperate cry of "scatter" as the distant hum of incoming projectiles arced lazily towards the assembled ships. Somewhere off the her port side a destroyer screamed, it sounded like a Japanese voice to Iowa, but she wasn't giving it much attention.

Kicking her propellers into high gear, the water beneath Iowa began to churn violently, the engineers desperately working her boilers to get back her critical speed, soot coated fairies throwing shovel after shovel of coal in.

The destroyers near her had less trouble and had nearly surpassed Iowa's maximum speed when several groups of red geysers erupted, widely dispersed from a few hundred meters to Iowa's right, followed by a series of other splashes, each as vividly colored as the first.

Iowa tamed her crew, using the built up steam to bring herself to a stable eighteen knots and surveyed the situation, the other girls appeared to be in various states at the moment, San Juan and Atlanta seemed focused on keeping the destroyers busy. already Atlanta was going to each individual girl and individually and deliberately instructing them on their task and position in the formation. San Juan for her part, continued watching the horizon, a scowl on her face.

Following her unheard instructions to Hailey, Atlanta broke off, accelerating to the Battleships central location in the fleet.

"Okay," Iowa began angrily, before Atlanta had a time to deliver instructions, "how long has that shit been a thing!"

Atlanta adjusted her glasses through a confused look.

"Shooting over the horizon! They can't even see us!" Iowa announced, angrily gesturing towards the smokestacks.

"It's been awhile, but unless you want me to spend the next half hour explaining advances to gunnery drills we have more important things to do," lectured Atlanta.

"Right." Agreed Iowa.

"I'd like you to hold where you are in formation, they're probably making you a primary target, try going into evasive action after you hear the guns go off."

"Sounds like a plan."

"How are your engines holding up." the light cruiser asked, concern evident in her voice.

The intense negative aura of Iowa's chief engineer could be felt deep inside her as the fairies worked desperately to continue their quickened pace. "Fine." Iowa answered tersely.

Atlanta shot a skeptical look, "can you at least hold speed for another hour or two."

"Shouldn't be a problem." Iowa stated dismissively.

"Right," Atlanta confirmed before turning away from Iowa, "how are you holding up Fran?"

Iowa had just then had the state of mind to glance over her left shoulder, Frank's stood close by, her nervous gaze towards the horizon interrupted with a start by Atlanta's questioning. Jolting her slightly despite Ardent's comforting hand resting on her shoulder.

"Huh?!" Franks asked as if brought back to reality.

"Just checking in." Atlanta explained reassuringly, "how are you and Ardent here holding up."

"Uh- fine," Franks stated out of hand, "or- as fine as things here get."

"It'll be fine," Iowa interjected warmly, "I've been through worse."

Franks nodded glumly.

"Hey uh- you" Iowa fumbled addressing Ardent, standing off to Franks's side.

"Ardent." Ardent explained with brevity.

"Uh- right. You holding up okay?"

"If I said 'no' would there be anything in your power that could change all of that business?" She answered.

"I suppose that's fair." Iowa affirmed.

"Right." Atlanta finished, "well I'm off to make sure Stewart's taken care of. Take care."

"Right ho!" Ardent answered, drawing a confused look from Atlanta, before the light cruiser made her exit.

The silence that filled the gap of her departure did little to distract from the growing tension. The gentle sounds of lapping waves and humming engines were the only sounds before the distant thunder of guns began erupting once again a distant steady rumble of mixed calibers.

"high hell!" Iowa swore putting her rudder into a hard starboard turn.

The destroyers did a wide split, scattering to Iowa's port and starboard flanks and taking an irregular zig-zag to their path, Iowa had scarcely begun entering her turn before the two had made considerable gaps in the spacing between themselves and her, her rudder straining and engines at full speed as she struggled to alter her course.

Turning around and moving herself in backwards evasive maneuver, Franks gave Iowa a look of alarm, "scatter Iowa! Take evasive action!" She called desperately, "they're shooting at us!"

Iowa shot a frustrated look at the concerned escort, "I'm trying!" The battleship called as she shifted her rudder back to follow up on her decisively undramatic but desperate maneuver.

"Try faster." Ardent suggested unhelpfully.

The whistle of incoming rounds intensified, eventually growing to a loud howl as the rounds impacted the sea not 200 meters ahead of Iowa in a wide irregular pattern, spraying colorful geysers into the air.

Iowa called off her turn, taking herself into a more forward course. "Well that was fun," she announced to Franks with mock cheer.

"The right flank needs to start making smoke, we can't let that plane keep dropping gunfire on us." Atlanta called, "and spread out."

Various calls to the affirmative sounded and the formation widened noticeably gradually thickening puffs of smoke dancing from the funnels of the girls to Iowa's right. The formation steadied, with Franks and Ardent to iowas near her left and the light cruisers taking more distant positions to her right.

The brief feeling of situational control Iowa had was crashed almost as soon as it started as the booming thunder of naval guns sounded again several minutes later from the Abyssals, a series of loud explosions, followed by a thundering and steady series of more deliberate explosions half a minute later.

Placing her rudder into the far right, Iowa desperately tried to maneuver the best she could through the incoming shriek of naal gunfire. A heartwrenching number of seconds counted down until the colored geysers erupted a hundred yards ahead of the battleships.

"That's pretty close…"

"The smoke should prevent them from seeing us, they're ranging in on last known location, just move to the right." Franks explained with clear worry in her voice

"Im trying." Iowa called, frustration evident in her voice.

"Try harder!" Ardent suggested unhelpfully through a smug grin.

Iowa responded with an angry look, channeling the frustrated rage her engine crew was venting at her from her system straining efforts to dodge shells as the incoming sounds of shells grew louder.

The shells impacted directly into the smokescreen, spraying vividly colored water out of the edges of the thick curtain of smoke, bracketing in a close pattern.

One of the Japanese ships let out a startled yelp and the Americans cast nervous gazes towards the pillars of water, Iowa shifted her rudder hard left, taking her on a more irregular movement.

"That was bloody close." Ardent remarked.

"Closer than last time even", Iowa remarked.

The whistling increased again as the next salvo came closer, before slamming hard into the sea, right in the gap between Franks and Iowa, not 30 feet from the battleship and eliciting a scream from the destroyer.

"God damn!" Screamed the battleship.

A second round whistled through the air, before missing Iowa's stern by a matter of dozens of feet.

The half formed plan to alter course was interrupted by the third round's screeching, Iowa began shifting her rudder hard before feeling the pain of the incoming round in one of her starboard secondaries, as it slammed straight through the thinner roof armor.

Iowa let out a scream, falling to one knee in shock at the impact, further rounds missing narrowly around her before a second slammed hard into her stern, piercings through the deck and impacting her stern waterline, severing the drive shaft.

Iowa's pained scream drowned out the sounds of the additional rounds splashing harmlessly in the ocean around the ships as the ship collapsed briefly to one knee, shaking slightly

"Iowa!" Frank's called in alarm, moving protectively to the ship's side and drawing the attention of the other girls.

"Shit!" Ardent called offhand. "Iowa's hit."

Shaking uneasily on the newfound flooding, pain, and broken screw and clutcherinjg her wounded chest Iowa staggered unsteadily upwards, swaying slightly and further crimsion built up through her fingers.

"I'm fine," she stated with finality, despite the thin trickle of blood forming at the corner of her mouth.

Franks looked unconvinced, taking the battleships hand in an attempt to steady her.

"Circle the wagons girls!" San Juan yelled, her armaments swinging outwards to challenge the distant ships. "Franks." She added.

"Ye-yes?" The girl stammered, holding back tears as she clutched Iowa

"I need you to get Kongou on the line. I need it done yesterday."

Franks nodded, slightly and began sending out stammered messages. Into the headset

"Iowa!?" San Juan yelled.

Iowa responded with several choice curses.

"Can you move?"

"Barely." The battleship responded through clenched teeth. "Severed a screw."

"You'll be okay." Franks explained as more of a question than a statement.

Sweeping towards the commotion and towards her sister, Atlanta eyed Iowa with a grimace before returning to her sister for the sitrep.

"Iowa's hit." San Juan stated solemnly.

"It sounded like that. How bad is it? Can she make it back to port."

"Well, it sounds like she's not sinking anytime soon."

"That's good." Atlanta muttered, her characteristic drawl filled with tension.

"But she's not going anywhere soon, the shot severed a stew and she's slow enough as is."

Atlanta responded only by casting a hard glare on the horizon towards the enemy ships."

"They stopped shooting for now."

"So they did." San Juan agreed, probably conserving ammo."

"They also stopped moving." Atlanta stated, mentally checking her radar."

"You think it's the smoke?" San Juan asked. "God knows if they get close we'll fill them with more torpedos than they sent out at suritago."

"It might be," Atlanta noncommittally stated, "but either way we're stuck until Iowa gets fixed."

In the center of the formation, the battleship's world had begun to blur, despite the non-catastrophic nature of the hit, the pain had begun to dull her senses. Her damage control teams were frantically pumping, welding and extinguishing fires inside her the battleship struggled to make sense of damage and help direct the

"You promised!" Franks cried tears, welling up.

"i'm fine, just need to put out a few fires."

"I can send you damage control!" The girl pleaded.

"They don't know boilers or older ships anyway, just a few minutes of waiting and I'll be good to go," Iowa groaned clutching her wounded abdomen.

"We don't have a few minutes!" cried, Akebono from the right, angrily buttiing into the conversation. "Stupid battleship can't even keep up."

Franks cast a tear streaked death glare towards her Japanese contemporary. "We can't leave her!." she yelled angrily

For her part Akebono's recoiled and her expression softened slightly with guilt and the Japanese destroyer muttered softly to herself before granting the rest of the ships blissful silence. Pulling up next to her Japanese friend to watch from a distance.

Ardent had begun to tear off he ends of Iowa's dress, throwing it over the rapidly expanding crimson stains. Every time she wrapped a wound the rapidly paling battleship winced slightly under her touch.

Iowa broke the concentrated silence of the destroyer and Frank's light tears with a bitter chuckle, "those were some damn good shots, never seen anybody shoot through smoke like that before."

Frank's smiled slightly, "I haven't seen shooting like that since the Iowa's."

Iowa laughed, wincing slightly as Ardent tied of another bandage, "don't flatter me."

"Other Iowas," Ardent replied flatly, drawing a sheepish look from bebeath the battleships's paling face.

"I guess that makes sense."

Ardent tore a further strip from Iowa's dress, finally bringing about the battleship's notice.

"Man, I liked this dress too." She remarked sadly, "I wonder if the Japanese make nice clothes still?" She asked, directing her attention to Franks's worried face, 'I remember seeing some pretty ones when I was last there. Maybe we can get you something too, Franks, bet you'd look nice in one of those bright kimonos."

The destroyer blushed slightly.

"Sounds like the bloodloss is getting to her." Ardent muttered sarcastically, drawing Iowa's ire.

"Hey Fran!" Haggard called, suddenly, interrupting the conversation.

"Huh?"

"Are you seeing this?" Asked the further Fletcher, gesturing in the general area of their opponent.

"Seeing wh-" Franks began before stopping short.

Ardent cast a worried look at her friend and stopped her work, standing at the ready. Frank's expression locked firmly trough the smoke on the enemy formation.

"Are they coming?" Iowa asked, her good turrets turning to position.

"No," Franks replied with a smile "they've turned around."

"What?"

"They're retreating."

"What?" Ardent repeated.

Frank's smiled and gave a noncomittal shrug.

"Well that's good." Ardent stated, "unless they're being tricky."

"We need to stay on guard,", Iowa affirmed, taking a combative stance despite the damage.

"Hey Ardent!" Zubian repeated, yelling louder to get the destroyers attention.

"What?!"

"We've been yelling at you for fifteen bloody minutes." The girl chatized.

"I was trying to stop our dunce of a battleship from bleeding to death you that, why didn't you just bring your lazy arse down here?!"

Zubian gave a brief expression that seemed to indicate that she had hardly considered the idea, before recalling her earlier reasoning and holding up a headset, "We've got Kirishima on the line, she says she's almost in support range."

"Well that'd probably be it." Iowa stated.


	15. Chapter 15: Good Copy, Out

Iowa awoke slowly, pains and aches covered her body even further than the scars on her hull wove about. Nervous confusion about the pain receded as hazy memories of her injuries flooded back, but as the memories returned and the gaps revealed themselves, a faint nervousness began to creep up on her as she began to realize how little she recognized her surroundings.

The comforting sheets she found herself wrapped in gave little clue, sitting slowly up, she began to survey the room, plainly fashioned and adorned with white walls and cleanly varnished wood floors, the room was modern, but clearly betrayed hints of minor Asiatic influence.

The soft murmur from the corner broke her analysis of the room, spinning to find the owner of the soft murmuring, the battleship was confronted with the sleeping form of USS Franks, sitting on a nearby chair and wrapped in a blanket, besides her a small table lay coated in various flowers and other ornaments as well as a neatly folded pile of clothing, prompting the battleship to notice she had been put into shorts and a t-shirt with some mild embarrassment.

Her embarrassment was almost entirely offset by Franks's sleeping form and Iowa smiled warmly, before sliding herself off the bed and standing up.

Or at least that was the plan, but as her body raised itself off the bed a dull but intense ache in her right leg informed her something was wrong and the warship toppled ungainly to her side, dragging a good portion of the bedsheets down with her in an effort to dodge her fate.

Returning to her knees, the battleship attempted a more balanced approach and, on unsteadily legs, rose herself slowly to a standing position, glancing over to the destoryer, Iowa was mildly surprised to discover her completely unphased and still sleeping, despite the commotion.

Taking a few experimental steps and eventually settling on a again that left her with a mild limp, Iowa walked herself over to Franks, grabbed the clothes and dressed herself, noting with a few experimental and displeased tugs that the skirt she was given was distressingly short.

Having dressed herself and acclimated herself to her surroundings, the Battleship turned her attention to aquiring food.

The base's hallways were less sterile than their American counterpart and Iowa limped slowly down the pathway, sticking close to the wall due to the frequent need to stabilize her walk, she felt a small feeling of relief at the lack of other girls to notice her predicament.

The signs were frustratingly mostly written in Japanese, though to Iowa's surprise a few had dual texts and the battleship soon found a sign reading "cafeteria".

The opening of the doors was a mild inconvenience as the battleship struggled slightly with her limp, however bursting through the doors revealed a busy scene of a good dozen shipgirls eating and chatting with each other, a few stray glances and curious looks greeting her.

The serving counter was full of bright curries, vegetables and other exotic, at least to the battleship's standards, foods. Her hunger overcoming politeness, Iowa took great ladles of food and laid her tray high with mountains of whatever she vaguely recognized.

Turning to find a place to sit, Iowa landed unsteadily on her right leg, which collapsed from under her, driving her to one knee and only narrowly allowing her to hold onto her tray.

Her face flush with embarrassment, Iowa attempted to regain her footing standing steadily, she noticed she was confronted by the worried expression of a young destroyer in a short black ponytail and schoolgirl outfit.

"I can take that tray for you." The girl offered.

Pride initially dictated for Iowa to refuse, but the faint pain in her leg threatened to do more than just have her ungainly topple over and Iowa relented with an embarrassed nod, handing the tray to the smiling girl who took off and set it down with two familiar looking Japanese destroyers, who greeted her with a nervous smile and a death glare respectively.

Iowa sighed and limped over to the table, setting herself down with an unladylike thud.

"So- you're the American ship." The new girl began, "I'm Fubuki! Of the Fubuki class."

"Iowa," responded the American, before shoving a large spoonfull of curry into her mouth.

The girl smiled, "I heard about you from Ushio-chan, are you feeling okay?"

Iowa nodded, "just a bit of damage to the props, I've taken worse."

"I'm not surprised an old lady like you couldn't handle a gunfight!" Akebono retorted.

The battleship shot an angry glare but decided instead to focus on her meal.

The silence began to creep into the group as the hostile exchange led to a growing awkwardness in the group.

"So- um, miss Iowa-" Fubuki started.

"Just Iowa, please," the battleship replied, as she polished the last of her curry.

"Oh-sorry. I just wanted to offer you any help if you need it. If you need anyone to show you around or explain things to you."

Iowa cast a lopsided smile at the destroyer. "Thanks," she responded, "I'll keep that in mind."

As Fubuki finished her explanation the doors to the cafeteria opened again and distinctly english and excited chatter filled the room, the Taffys and their British counterparts entering a big excited mob of escorts, filtering over to the counter. Franks throwing a big excited wave to Iowa, who returned a much smaller one.

The first to sit down was Glowworm who dropped her tray with a joyful clunk on the table, the sound seeming to darken Akebono's mood.

"Good to see you girls again!" She declared cheerfully, "How's the leg? It looked to us like it was nicked pretty bad."

"Bit sore," Iowa reflected, "but I can't complain."

Franks and Ardent joined close behind, finding a place across from Iowa, perilously close to Akebono's growing ire.

"You feeling good? Doc said you were nicked up pretty bad." Ardent asked in parallel to Glowworm's earlier remark.

"Fine, how are you all holding up?"

"You're the only one who got hit, you daft broad," Ardent stated with a teasing grin, "except Franks here who got a bit of recollection as to why we're not too keen on spending time with battleships" she laughed, slapping the destoryer on the back, causing Franks to let out an adorable squeak.

Iowa cast a confused glance at the pair.

"You're alright though, less big guns, smaller and stockier, like a little battleship plushy," Ardent backpedaled nervously.

Iowa's gaze deepend into a confused scowl as Franks's face reddened.

"Look, I shouldn't have brought it up, nevermind, point is she was worried for you and now we're all happy." Ardent said, guiltily diving into her curry.

Iowa opened her mouth for a question, but conceded the point for later and instead opting to drive a spoonfull curry into it.

The mounting silence was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder which, upon her whirling around to greet it, revealed the form of Hailey, looking extremely smug and holding a, to Iowa's standards, adorably shy looking Haggard by the wrist.

"What's this about?" The battleship asked as the rest of the table whirled around with equally confused expressions, save for Franks who smirked mildly.

"'lanta said you had to!" Hailey teased her sister.

Haggard shook her head reluctantly.

"She'll know of you don't do it." Hailey admonished.

Iowa raised a confused eyebrow, until she glanced down into the destryers hands.

At the pair of brightly colored flags.

Haggard grabbed Iowa by the wrist and gave and embarrassed look at the floor before gesturing towarda the hallways with her flags, giving emabarassed glances to the other assembled destoryers.

A knowing and vengeful smile crept up on Iowa's face as she briefly pondered demanding Haggard to do her punishment in full view of the cafeteria, before noting with some pity the massive levels of uncomfortable squirming the destroyer was going through just by being there.

Standing up unsteadily Iowa turned towards the less embarrassed of the two destoryers, "Could you help me with the tray?" Iowa asked.

Hailey grinned and grabbed the tray, running to toss it over in the collection areas before attempting to follow the limping battleship out the door.

"Hey Hailey," Iowa asked softly.

The girl still grinning, gave a slightly confused look.

"Do you mind waiting here?" The battleship asked aside, before glancing over at the girls anxious ly squirming sister "I think Haggard is probably going to come pretty close to dying of embarrassment just with me being there."

"I'll let you know if she spells anything wrong," Iowa compromised with a grin, eliciting a frustrated noise from Haggard.

"But I want to see for myself!" Hailey whined before relenting to the mixed pleading expression of her sister and authoritative expression of Iowa

"Please Hailey, its not like you would know the difference anyways," Iowa rebuked. "Come on Haggard, let me see your semaphore."

Stepping out into the hallway Haggard carefully closed the door and checked both ways up and down to guarantee it as clear, her face beat red and staring shamefully at the floor.

"I-" she began with an experimental wave. "A-M S-O-R-R-Q F-I-R B-E-O-N-G R-U-D-E." she announced, rapidly firing off the flags before pointing them frustratingly at the floor her face staring red in the same direction.

Surpressing her giggles, Iowa instead elected to give the destoryer a forgiving ruffle of the hair.

"Apology accepted, now go eat."

xxx

 _Can you hear something?_

" _Nothing"_

 _It's pretty distant, it sounds like a bell, it sound like our Bell!_

" _Our time has past, we were abandoned no one will call."_

" _A light is there, I think we're being called."_

" _Just let us sleep, we've already been denied our peace once."_

" _I- I think it's time we go back."_

" _I can't take being lost again."_

" _But it's our duty!"_

" _To hell with duty, we've been through so much, can't I just rest?"_

" _They need us, they're calling."_

 _͜"JUST LET ME STAY!"_


	16. Chapter 16: Stranded 1

It was dark and raining when she stepped out, collapsing inelegantly on the rolling ocean. Her chipper summer dress clinging, like her normally neat brown hair inelegantly to her body.

The weather was cold, she shivered slightly arms exposed to the cold winds and attempted to blink the saltwater out of her eyes. Blinking more rapidly when the action led her to discover that she In Fact did have eyes, the action was compounded by the discovery of legs and face, as she goped experimentally over her newfound body.

Recovering slightly from the she took a bead of her surroundings and noted little beyond the dark rolling waves, the sky too was coated by thick clouds and preventing her from finding her way.

She stood there for awhile, taking in her surroundings and looking for any sort of landmark, weather pattern, ship, or other feature that could let her know just where the hell she found herself.

Nothing.

She pulled up her compass, eyeing it warily as the needle made several rapid full rotations, before settling ramrod straight on a distant point, she frowned and gave it a frustrated shake, the needle once again steadying itself to a single point. Despite the logical parts of her mind telling her to the contrary, her instincts screamed danger to her, as though it was not north it pointed to.

Glancing warily over the ocean for any indication of path, the woman chose to follow the way opposite of her compass, unable to shake the feeling of unease it filled her with. She to use the bearing as a reverse azimuth at worst if she was wrong it would take her south and to the slightly warmer waters there.

Her engines slowly powered to life for the first time in decades as life course through her long unused systems, propellers steady gaining speed in the water. She took this time to begin a checklist of her systems, checking in with all of her system chiefs.

"Okay," she muttered softly, a nervous tone taking her normally chipper voice. "We need to figure things out. Firstly, where are we?" She glanced around, expecting and receiving nothing in terms of landmark.

"Bridge?" She asked turning her attention to her faeries.

A tiny cluster of maps was pushed off a table by stunty and adorable arms, followed by a frustrated squeak.

"It's okay, we're all trying to figure things out here."

"Okay," she paused briefly, "do we know what year it is? Based on my equipment and-" she gestured towards her body, "all of this mess, I think we're a fair bit off from when we started."

The faeries pointed at a calendar mounted on her bridge, filled with, to her embarrassment, erotic pin ups of herself.

"That's not helpful, it may not be accurate ninety years is a lot of time off after all-" she began, "also where did you get that?"

The crew was silent before a defensive squeak went off.

"Could you please take it down?" She asked hesitantly.

A squeak of protest went up.

"I am flattered," she answered, "it's just a bit odd to have scantily clad pictures of yourself inside yourself."

The squeak responded encouragingly.

"Fine, it can stay, but I better be fully clothed in it!"

Her journey continued at a steady pace, moving steadily through the freezing rain, though the girls in her fleets had always hated the rain and loudly complained whenever a storm brewed up, she found honest comfort in the cold downpour, it reminded her of home, filling her with bittersweet longing.

She continued on for a good half hour, the downpour unabetting, until an excited squeak sounded from her lookout.

"What is it?" She called, pulling out a pair of binoculars and noting the dark silhouette of an island in the far distance, probably outside the edges of the storm.

"Good spotting!" She called, bringing her binoculars about to the indicated direction, "that certainly is an island, let's go check it out!" She announced cheerfully, kicking her rudder to the far port side.

"It's pretty big too, maybe we'll find someone there to talk to, figure out what's going on."

A squeak sounded.

"You think other have returned too? Well I guess that make sense," she pondered, "either way, we-"

She stopped.

The compass point had moved, instead of pointing hard to the same fixed point, the compass angle had changed, as if the point had been maintaining a steady point behind her and was late in its turn. She glanced over the dark and quiet waters behind her, seeing nothing but blackness in the low visibility. She glanced nervously again at the compass, but the point was now consistent, again pointing directly behind her, despite her change in course.

Bringing her engines past cruising speed, she gave a last glance towards the compass point and with a slight feeling of dread, noted That a distant light had appeared from the area, a searchlight that scanned steadily over the ocean, dim and flickering slightly as it approached ever closer bouncing on the waves.

She accelerated further to full speed, warily eyeing her compass as the point steadily followed the light, now matching pace with her, several miles out.

The woman turned towards the light. "Okay, who- or what, is that?" She asked, suppressing an inward shudder.

The faeries stood simply in nervous silence for what felt to the warship to be several minutes before her lookout gave a nervous shrug.

"Again, I don't know either, but I think we all agree it's best to avoid." The woman hesitated briefly, "do you think engineering can give us some more steam?" She asked hesitantly.

A soot covered faery deep within her engine room looked apprehensive over the idea, before giving a wary squeak.

"Right, we probably should wait until whatever it is let's us know it's hostile."

The squeak agreed, though all hands still glanced nervously at the spotlight as it narrowly scanned the surface of the water, the woman, for her part, decided to ignore the light and focus entirely on the island, the faint outline growing clearer.

The light continued dancing in the distance behind her, well too far away to actually prove any use in revealing her location, though still contributing to her nervousness, especially as it's movements became more sudden, rapidly and desperately searching the night.

A hellish inhuman cry of desperate rage thundered through the night, causing the woman to shudder and glance backwards to her unseen adversary.

Bright yellow and intense flashes illuminated to light from their location, revealing her pursuer to be roughly the same humanoid brand of ship as herself. The sounds of naval rifles distinguished themselves apart from her thunder, not a half second later.

The woman froze briefly, before turning her own substantial armaments back towards her opponent. Holding briefly enough for the unseen pursuer to kill their light and vanish into the distant night. She noted with some odd mix of relief and unease that her compass appeared slightly shaky now, as though the point it indicated was now slightly less clear.

Though the rainstorm still hammered her hull, the relief of the island did draw ever closer and clearly revealed to her, were several large submarine pens, in stages of mass disrepair though still somewhat functional.

Creeping into the smaller entranceway of a partially collapsed pen, she carefully verified the pen as clear as well as checking the night beyond as best she could before slipping into the entrance.

The pen appeared spatious beyond the rubble and with some hesitation she activated her own searchlight. Revealing almost nothing aside from the concrete walls.

The concrete stairway leading into the pen itself gave her some trepidation, but giving her newfound legs a thoughtful glance, she mounted them uneasily and went further into he pen.

Most of he concrete structure was completely abandoned, stripped of everything from supplies, to even the pipes and wires of its infastructure and various lichens had grown in the cracking concrete.

There was little to be seen in fact to revealbthe original owners until a happenstance passing of her light revealed some faded writing. Japanese Kanji written in clear white letters, giving a look backwards down the hallway, her face flattened into a determined grimace as she brought herself to expect imminant danger for the second time that day.

Eventually, she felt she had safely mapped out the faucolity and beyond the metal door, long since appearing to have been welded shut, there was little risk of anyone entering from any path but her own. Having little to do, she wandered for near another hour before she realized the fuzzy vision and heavy eyelids must have been the result of fatigue.

Returning to the entrance, she found a concrete corner and sat herself down, back to the wall overlooking the entrance. The gentle sounds of distant rains brought her some comfort and relief and she was asleep before she her weapons could finish their turn to point themselves at the door.


	17. Chapter 17: Of Destoryers and Damcon

The cold steel of the examination table on Iowa's legs sent an involuntary shiver up the battleships spine. Though she felt at home in the cold and stormy waters of the mid Atlantic, the chilly table still left her shifting awkwardly.

"And one more test," Akashi began in well spoken English before presenting a single finger to Iowa's face, "follow my finger, eyes only, no moving the head."

Iowa complied, following the steady and deliberate motions of the repair ship's hand, before the Japanese shipgirl stopped, picked up a clipboard and began writing quick but thoughtful shorthand.

"So what's the verdict, doc?" Iowa asked through the note taking.

Akashi frowned, "Well, to be honest, as lucky as you are, you've taken some serious damage and over?l the news isn't great-" she flipped up a page from her clipboard and reviewed the notes. "that first hit to your turret knocked out pretty much everything keeping the battery going and missed a magazine detonation by just a few inches. The thing is pretty beaten up, I could have me or Yuubari get it up working again, but that takes time, a cruiser sized gun from the turn of the century really isn't doing you any good anyways."

Iowa gave an offended glare, "I'd rather have it than not. Besides, they've served me fine in the past."

"in all honesty I think you should consider your options. I'd like to take some measurements if you don't mind, maybe get something more modern."

Iowa looked skeptical. "What are we talking about?"

"Just a few changes," Akashi announced quickly and with sudden excitement, "some of those American 5" guns your countrymen loved so much shouldn't be too hard to train your crew on, strap a few dozen bofors and some air radar and you might even scare off some less suicidal Abyssal aircraft, plus they'll give you that Yankee battlewagon look."

Initially Iowa responded with a scowl at the caliber downgrade, but let out a resigned sigh, "You mean like the ones those destroyers have got right?" She asked quietly.

"I was thinking the twin mounts, like the Atlanta's use." Akashi responded reassuringly. "You know, the best US battleships of the war mounted those, it's a hell of a gun, would definitely give you some teeth."

Iowa nodded solemnly, "Those aircraft were a hell of a thing…" she began. "Can my turrets even be switched out though?"

"Sure" Akashi announced, we're a lot easier than normal ships in that regard, just some minor refits, "the real trouble is that I want to slave all the systems to a centralized radar fire control so you can link all the fire and shoot more accurately. I'm not so great with electronics or fire control computers, but maybe you can get Yuubari to give it a go. plus I'll probably have to hand build the turrets, unless you can get Atlanta or San Juan to give up theirs." She excitedly called out making quick notes in her clipboard.

Iowa gave a blank and confused look in return.

The repair shop finally noticed the confusion and gave a bashful look, "It's doable but will take some time."

"How much time?"

Akashi thought a bit, "two months, maybe four if we get swamped with work. In the meantime though, I can see about using some early British designs to try and at least give you some sort of centralized fire control on your 12s, though you might have to put your faeries through a math class or two."

Iowa briefly looked confused again before resigning herself to not understanding "Okay, I guess I'll sit tight for then."

"Nah, the instructors seemed good to focus on gunnery and formations for the next few months. They sounded convinced that you'd need it, you should be able to keep busy in the meantime."

Iowa scowled briefly before relenting again, "Yeah, probably. I got shot to pieces pretty badly by a ship that I couldn't even see."

Akashi gave an interested look, "Yeah, you managed to cause quite the stir over with that."

"What? Getting shot?"

"No." She reaffirmed before thinking the point over again, "well- yes. But more to the point, getting hit over the horizon and through a smokescreen."

"Is that not something most ships can do?" Iowa asked with genuine confusion.

Alashi gave a blank look, "have you ever seen a ship do that before?"

"No, but I've never even seen a ship shoot over the horizon, but apparently that's a regularity now."

"Regardless," Akashi began, "there's only a handful of ships that could do that, and none that should have been there."

Iowa shifted slightly on the cold table before distractedly addressing Akashi, "Meaning?"

Akashi shrugged, "better left to the Intel boys as far as I'm concerned. But for you I'm sure they have all sorts of 'Q and A' planned."

Iowa took on a very grim expression, "not really looking forward to that"

Akashi laughed. "Well, you're in for a sore time after this than."

Iowa stared somberly at the ground for a short while before deciding on a subject change, "So what about the leg- or prop? I guess it is?" Iowa lifted her leg and pointed, "this thing."

Akashi shook her head "Damage was pretty extensive and the shot had severed the shaft while the thing was still moving, caused all sorts of issues, me and your damcon teams did what we could but you can only patch things up so much. From what I've seen this morning even after repairs You might not be able to put weight on it for awhile and if you start getting weird vibrations or wobbles you'll probably have to shut that engine down or cut speed until it stops"

Iowa grimaced, "and here I was thinking I was too slow to compete before."

"Sorry, I don't decide these things, just fix what I can."

Iowa nodded, while giving distracted examinations to her leg.

"Now, if you have no more questions, I've been told to send you up to your leadership for that little 'Q and A' you were dreading.

Iowa sighed forlornly. "No, I've got nothing."

"Well, the base is a bit big, hold on a second," Akashi turned from her place near Iowa's examination be to open the small door to the clinic.

"Oh!" She called out merrily to an unseen individual, "Hey Ushio!"

Akashi paused briefly while Ushio presumably gave their full attention, "I've got some work to do and Iowa needs to be taken over to the new American offices, would you mind taking her down there?"

A brief pause signified a response.

"Great! Come on in."

The timid girl peeked her head in and offered a shy smile, which Iowa returned cheerily and with a wave.

Pressing herself up slowly the battleship was careful to avoid undue weight on her leg, hobbling awkwardly towards the door towards the door, using the wall help support herself, she fidgeted her way through the room with slow clumsiness.

"This might help." Akashi eventually offered, procuring both a polished wooden can and a dark scowl from the battleship, but the American bit back her rebuke and took the offered item with a frustrated glare and a blush.

The thin and steady rap of the rubber tip of Iowa's cane was all that broke the broodening silence that Iowa's newfound shame left her with. Though the destroyer appeared to be entirely unfocused on the battleship humming lightly to herself and swaying back and forth in a singsong fashion as she walked through the faucility.

The buildings itself were a bit disappointingly similar to the American building, though the Japanese signs and larger widows pointed it as foreign it was a bit disappointingly different from the exotic structures of her last visit.

Eventually, Ushio seemed to reach her objective, giving Iowa a small smile and gesturing towarda a series of offices with differing languages printed underneath kanji characters on the side.

The closest read "foreign office, United States Navy." LCDR Mitchells Office of Naval Intelligence.

Iowa stopped and deliberated at the door for a few seconds, before setting her cane down on the far side of the entrance. The destoryer gave a worried look.

"Don't you- don't you need that to walk?"

"I'll be fine," countered the American with determination. White knocked she took a deep breath before she knocked heavily on the door and opened I upon hearing the affirmative.

The small office was sparse in furniture though rather tastefully furnished, with a large desk with an officer behind it confronted with two chairs, one of which was occupied by Atlanta, who was heavily invested in scribbling into a notebook. and a second smaller table for two on the far corner. The owner of the office sat at his desk, pensively studying an overwhelming mountain of paperwork, "morning, Iowa, nice to see you again."

Iowa entered, doing her best to hide the irregularity of her gait and uncomfortable expression, eventually arriving at the main desk.

"Good morning. Uh- sir?" Iowa saluted, sudden confused as her role in the rank structure of the US Navy suddenly became an issue for her to consider.

"I appreciate the sentiment but shipgirls or, 'Auxiliary Warship Personnel', he announced with air quotes, aren't thickly bound by rank." He gestured towards one of the empty chairs, if you'd like to take a seat we've got some important issues we need resolved regarding the last sortie. Leaned past Iowa he attempted to address the self hidden form of Ushio, "If you're not going anywhere there are some crayons on the far table and I've got a few books scattered about you can help yourself to."

Iowa stood in rapt attention, prepared for the incoming critique.

"Now Iowa, regarding the damage you took last sortie."

Atlanta flipped to a new page and began taking notes

"I've got some flaws with my design yes, believe me when I say self improvement is high on my list," Iowa began defensively. "I can make myself useful with a bit more knowledge on modern tactics."

The man smile slightly "Jesus, this isn't a performance inquiry board Iowa, in regards to the damage you took we're concerned about enemy methods."

"Oh." Iowa announced with relief.

"Take a seat," the man offered. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine." Iowa dismissed, "How's Jennifer?"

"Excited to be here and looking forward to meeting again, she said it's probably best if we don't invite you over though, something about her needing food too."

Iowa smiled slightly

"But as for the questions at hand," he began, pulling open a thick staple bound document. "As far as our reports say, the only other ship near you was Franks and she didn't see the relative impact zones clearly enough. Firstly can you give us a general description of everything, starting with when Atlanta had the smokescreen set?"

Iowa leaned back, thinking slightly "First we set the smokescreen to block the bomber off from spotting for the battleship. Then the enemy began shooting into the smokescreen, I'm not familiar enough with modern warships to gauge how effective it should've been. But the first few rounds scattered wide, the next barrage got a bit closer and finally a round struck here," Iowa mentioned, pointed to her turret, "and a second one struck me in the prop- or my leg, depending on how you view things."

"And these second shells were fro the same group of ships as the first?"

Iowa thought a bit, "Maybe? There was a brief period when they slow the fire down, fired gun by gun instead of a full broadside. But like you probably know, we couldn't see who was shooting."

"Can you provide any details about the rounds that hit you?"

"Hit at a high angle, definitely bigger than 12 inch rounds," she thought for a minute, "Probably bigger than 14"

"Would you say in your experience this was a lucky shot or deliberate aiming?" he asked at the next point and he scribbled down answer.

Iowa paused, "I've seen worse shooting over flat ground with direct line of sight, either God himself was guiding their shells by hand, or they could see me, but I don't even know if it was possible."

"It is possible, but would imply the abyssals could retrofit their ships better than we could and develop reaserch beyond what they've been cabable or willing to do."

"How so?"

"Only a few ships during the wae had the radar fire control necessary to take that shot. The Abyssal group you ran into, 'UK40-Nor1' or 'Group Norway', doesn't have any ships that, given their historical makeup, should have radar fire control and abyssals have traditionally been against adopting anything outside of their arbitrarily chosen period."

"Could they have allied ships with it."

"Abyssal Group are extremely territorial, it's why you don't see huge fleets of them. They only stick closely to ships they fought together with in their group, in this case, Norway in 1940. Occasionally the group with be alright with brief teamwork with a similar enough group or one to two will be happy with a newcomer, but infighting is frequent and they're very territorial."

Iowa shrugged, "I assume none of this ships that have it would be there."

"Barring alarmingly extraordinary circumstances, no."

Iowa shrugged.

"But, I do have good news- at least for you." he announced, folding his notes closed.

"Oh?"

"Youve been granted a two week recovery block and Akashi has hesitantly given you the green light to walk on your own power unsupervised and by the way, she was supposed to give you something to help you get around, you should go ask her, no sense hurting yourself again." He noted, apparantly oblivious to Iowa's embarrassed expression. "But as far as I'm concerned, we've got nothing for you to do, so you've got an effective two weeks of vacation time, Atlanta can get you hooked up with a stipend to head out to town if you'd like."

"Also your future instructors here have requested you pick up and review several books regarding surface warfare history and tactics," Atlanta added, "I can give you a list-"

She was interrupted by the door slamming open, eliciting a startled yelp from Ushio's peaceful reading of a "Warship Maidens: an Illustrated Encyclopedia"

Haggard lead the charge, "Oi! Girls! We've got vacation!"

Mitchells sighed.

"We're picket ships, we hear everything!" Haggard bragged.

"Hard not to when you're at the door," Mitchells admonished

"Hey! Iowa definitely needs friendly faces around to guide her on her recovery and vacation with her." she said with no sembalance of sincerity.

"The whole task force was given leave to buy time for administrative work," Atlanta explained, "You've got 72 additional hours. After that we can talk about conversations and privacy."

"Sweet!" Haggard began ignoring the second part of the statement "We're going into town!" She turned to her sisters, "Quick, Franks, we need a translator and guide, go snag us a Jap!"

"I don't think you're supposed to say that," Hailey explained.

The sound of the Lieutenent Commander's head impacting the desk did nothing to reduce Haggard's energy.

"Fine, go bag a nip, whatever," she dismissed before scanning the room. Eventually aggressively pointing at the only Japanese ship in the room and eliciting a nervous noise from Ushio. "Oohshoes" she announced with finality.

"Huh?"

"You're our guide, we're having fun!" Haggard declared with a mighty fist in the air.

"This is an impending disaster." Atlanta deadpanned.


	18. Chapter 18: Plan of Attack

_Bit of a shorter chapter this time, sorry. Not only did I have to cut it in half, but also had originally been writing the alternate mystery POV, so things got a bit muddled, but both have good progress and should be releasing soon, or at least the second half to this is, I might have to add another chapter in front of 'Stranded, 2" to clarify events._

-o-

The steady clicking of the train's wheels gave way to a slightly worrisome groan as the carriage the group found themselves travelling in meandered wearily around a corner, taking with it the weight of the warships and the few passengers at the far end of the car politely and patiently ignoring the squabbling destroyers.

While the train spirited the Shipgirls inside to their destination, Haggard and Hailey excitedly studied a tourist map, with Franks quietly glancing over it intermitetantly.

Ushio meanwhile seemed content to read some sort of comic book, Iowa was tempted to point out to the poor girl that she was flipping the pages from right to left and thereby reading it backwards but the destroyers contented smile and near total investment in her reading seemed too much for Iowa to pull her back into reality.

Besides, Iowa was too busy watching the passing urban sprawl and reflecting on the events before, leaning against the window on the opposite side of the train and pondering the two sets of news she had received earlier that day.

"So where do we want to go first?" Haggard asked enthusiastically.

"I thought we needed to go to the bookstore?" Asked Hailey.

"We can let Iowa go to the bookstore, let's go somewhere fun."

"But that's mean!" Franks piped in, "besides, the bookstore sounds fun."

"What about food?" Haggard asked flipping the map over, "Jap food is supposed to be pretty good."

"Well, we could look into-" Hailey began.

"Ushio!"

"Huh?" the destroyer asked, startled.

"What's the best Jap food?!"

"Uh I-" she thought a bit "I guess I like tempura." She answered hesitantly.

"Is that squid?" Haggard asked with a frown.

"Not even close." Hailey deadpanned.

"Pretty sure it's squid."

A particularly flashy billboard caught Iowa's eye as she continued to stare out the window.

"Iowa, what's tempura?" Hailey asked.

"Dunno."

"Well that's no help at all."

"It's-" Ushio began quietly before being interrupted again.

"Please stop fighting and just Google it." Franks pleaded.

A phone came out and Hailey began hesitantly pecking keys.

"See!" She finally declared, "it's fried vegetables."

"And seafood!" Haggard declared, "inducing squid!"

"Well yeah! But my point is that it's not only squid!" Hailey bluffed.

Iowa lazily watched a small boat meandering down a river as the train found itself passing over.

"You want to go back?" Franks asked. It took Iowa several seconds to realize the girl was addressing her.

"No-" Iowa asked confused, "why would I need to go back?"

"You look like you're falling asleep."

"No I'm fine, just thinking."

"Something bother you?"

Iowa shrugged, "It's just a lot of info to take in." She mumbled into the window.

"Is that why you're so boring today?" Haggard asked. "Man, I thought a battleship would be-" she paused as if searching for a word, "exciting." she finally announced.

Iowa frowned, "I'm sorry I'm not entertaining to you." she announced with slight frustration and turned back to the window.

"Are you sure it's nothing?" Franks asked with a worried tone.

"Don't worry about her Fran, I bet she's just upset that the Spanish beat her so hard back in the day." Haggard added as a loud aside to her sister, eliciting amused laughs from Hailey and worried grumbles from Franks.

"Okay, yeah, for your information we _laid waste_ to the Spanish." Iowa began, "there wasn't a ship in that harbor that didn't have our expressed permission to exist."

"I just expected a big gun boat would have done it a bit faster." Haggard said with a sly grin.

"Yeah and back when I was around, destroyers were expected to be nice and quiet. They only talked to us when they had something they wanted us to kill."

"Back in my day!" Haggard began in her best 'old lady voice', eliciting a loud laugh from Hailey and stifled laughs from Franks and to Iowa's surprise, Ushio.

"Yeah, sorry for being nostalgic for the time me and my sisters beat down every ship that got in our way." Iowa teased, a slight grin developing, "crammed in a railcar four to one and of course the destroyers have an upper hand."

"Pick your fights better." Haggard added.

"But you started it." Franks defended, eliciting a shrug from Haggard.

"Okay, but back to business," Hailey suggested, "where are we going first?"

"I was just planning on letting Ushio show us around." Iowa suggested.

"Ooshoes doesn't seem the type to make suggestions, no offense to her." Hailey explained. "We need a plan of attack," she announced again, dramatically unfurling a tourist map.

"Well first the bookstore." Iowa suggested.

"That's boring." Haggard challenged.

"But Iowa needs her books." Franks began, "besides, Oohshoes said it'd be fun."

"Fine but afterwards-" Haggard began as the train announced, prompting action from the regular passengers, "oooh! Apparently there are great bars around here! Rum ration here I come! I bet those times were fun huh Iowa?"

"Okay, first off Haggard, you suck, I'm not that old." Iowa began,"Secondly, you're a pain in the ass enough sober." She added, "and thirdly you're too small to drink."

"I'm nearly eighty!" The destroyer protested.

"I said 'to small', not 'too young'."

Ushio stood up and began to collect her things in the small pink print backpack she brought.

"I guess we're there soon?" Iowa asked, glancing at the oncoming platform in the window.

Ushio nodded and the train began to slow, pulling smoothly into the station. To a further announcement by the conductor over the train intercom.

"Well, too late," Iowa admonished, "we'll figure it out on the fly."

"Alright! Let's get to it!" Haggard announced loudly, turning a significant number of heads from other passengers.


	19. Chapter 19: Gunboat Diplomacy

Even from the opening doors and the blast of Summer air that followed, the sheer largeness and denseness of the city was baffling to Iowa. The crowds at the station seemed large and foreboding, but Ushio and the rest of the girls trudged onwards and thus the battleship followed, stepping out onto the platform.

The dense streets filled with cars and the distant bustle of people, bright ads with cartoon girls and other vivid and colorful efforts to get people to buy various products loomed heavily over the distant streets.

Stepping down politely past the crowd and from the elevated train, Ushio led the group down to the narrow streets, verifying her group was with her, at the bottom, she noticed Iowa's curious and slightly uncomfortable glances all around.

"Is this your first time in a city?" Ushio asked Iowa worriedly.

"Um-yes, at least outside of being ten thousand tons of steel in the harbor." Iowa managed to shoot off. " from what I'd seen before I recalled Japanese cities being a bit more-quaint. With wooden houses and stuff."

Ushio frowned, "sorry." She muttered with genuine remorse.

"For what?" the larger ship asked, surprised

"It's not what you were expecting- there's a small town off the base. It is nice, but the bookstore is small, do- do you want to go there instead maybe?" The girl asked quietly.

Iowa let out another lopsided grin, "it'll be fine, I'm just getting adjusted is all." Iowa announced, stepping past a group of pedestrians.

The winding streets of the city seemed narrow to Iowa, but on reconsideration this may have been more due to the busy shops and large numbers of people. "Man, even for a city this is packed and everything is so much more colorful than it used to be." She added, resuming their movement.

"Huh?" Ushio asked, "oh! that's mostly just the entertainment district, it's colorful."

The American gave her a blank look as a group of children in matching uniforms pushed through between them. "So all of the cartoon girls?"

Ushio smiled and nodded, "it's a fun place."

"Did you take us to weebland?" Haggard asked, staring at a particularly pink and enthusiastic cartoon girl.

Ushio looked alarmed, "I-uh, thought it might be fun."

"Shut up Haggard" Iowa countered.

The ships continued onward, the Taffies forming in a small picket behind Iowa, chatting about various plans, Ushio led the way, glancing back periodically. Iowa suspected with sadness that she wanted to make sure the group didn't dissipate into the crowds to leave her stranded and flashed the destroyer her best disarming smile.

Rather suddenly one of her glances back resulted in a confused and slightly concerned expression. "Wasn't there-?" She began, pointing to the group of destroyers behind Iowa.

Iowa frowned, turning around to notice the trio of destroyers had become a duo.

"Hey, did we miss Hailey?" Iowa asked worried.

"Hailey?" Haggard asked.

"Your sister," Iowa exclaimed.

Haggard shrugged, a smile creeping up on her face.

"She saw something back there," Franks answered by pointing aways behind herself and eliciting a slight grumble or fun running from Haggard. "She said she'd come back once she checked it out."

"She's going to try to find her way through this crowd?"

"We've got radar and wireless," Haggard shrugged, "the backup was to fire a few flares."

"Don't you dare shoot off flares in a city." Iowa began, "come on, let's go find Hailey."

"Fine. But they're basically fireworks, it's not like we're firing off our guns."

"No flares,", Iowa repeated as she made her way through the crowd.

Pressing through the crowd, Haggard took lead, the 6th sense of radar guiding her through the crowds and down a side street the group had passed earlier. Finally stopping near a neon sign surrounded in those baffling cartoon girls Iowa had seen. Below it was a wide entrance and beyond that, a dazzling array of loud noises, excited yelling and bright lights, long with dozens and dozens of what looked like color TVs hidden in strange machines.

Hailey stood at the entrance, staring in with wonder.

"What?" Iowa asked meeting the girl at the entrance, "I don't understand."

"It's an arcade," the girl stated with wonder.

"So this is what you found. It's beautiful," Haggard added, joining her sister.

Franks stared and smiled.

"Huh," Iowa muttered. "So are you all staying here than?"

"Can we?" Franks asked surprised.

"Sure?" The battleship countered questioningly, "don't kill anyone. Me and Ushio will be back."

Am inhuman scream of delight and energy emitted from the destroyers as they barreled headfirst into the light and sound filled chaos of the arcade. Wincing internally at the noises, Iowa addressed Ushio. "Still want to go to the bookstore?"

The girl smiled and nodded, "I have a few things I'd like to pick up."

"Great," Iowa replied gesturing down the road, "lead on."

The pair continued down the crowded streets past various bright and alluring storefronts until, several blocks down from the arcade a larger building with several bright at alluring banners became visible over the short tops of several buildings, the few streets between the duo and their destination however featured several slashy barriers and various construction equipment. The owners of said equippment currently being in the part of repairing a section of road.

"Oh- oops," Ushio said with a frown.

"Huh?" Iowa asked.

"That road up there isn't usually blocked, we have to head around." explained the Japanese ship.

Iowa gave it some thought, glancing over her surroundings "Okay, how about that side route.?" she asked finally, indicating towards a distant alleyway.

Ushio frowned, thinking briefly, "okay." She finally announced with uncertainty.

The narrow alley of Iowa's 'side route' quickly meandered over bike paths, bridges, and side alleys, quickly changing the scenery enough to, in addition to Ushio's slight air of unease, tell Iowa that they probably were no longer even in the same district. The buildings had become less bright and even in a few cases run down and the people seemed less used to having a Westerner and young girl walking together, giving odd glances from the windows of the residences or alleys bordering the narrow road.

"Uh-iowa, I think we may be lost."

Iowa nodded, "seems that way" she answered, with frustration

"Sorry"

"Don't apologise, I chose the alley." Iowa soothed, "Hey, how about we go ask for directions?"

Ushio nodded slightly

Noticing a passing woman with arms full of laundry Iowa raised her hand in greeting, "Excuse me-" she began. Her only reply a tirade of frustrated Japanese.

Ushio's smile faded slightly.

"Okay, that was no good." Iowa began, thinking, "Hey, how about that noodle shack there?," she asked pointed towards a particularly dreary ramen cart with some disheveled and salty looking dock workers patronizing it.

"The-uh ramen cart?" Ushio asked

"Either one works" Iowa offered, "but the noodle shack is the closest."

"That's um- okay." ushio attempted to correct.

Iowa sauntered over to the ramen cart with a happy grin on her face, causing mild grumbles in Japanese by the patrons, a group of particularly salty dockworkers presumably taking a break.

Ushio followed with a nervous look on her face, removing her pink and sticker encrusted backpack and taking a seat towards an empty stool at the cart.

The owner gave an expecting frown towards Iowa as the battleship took a seat on one of the farther stools, elciiting a pained groan from the seat.

"Good afternoon." She began "sorry, me and my friend here were looking for directions. we got lost looking do you think you could give us a hand."

The man gave a shooing motion to Iowa and let out some particularly mean spirited Japanese in a dismissive manner.

"Okay, sorry, I don't speak Japanese, can I-"

More dismissive Japanese followed and the man began stirring a pot, now completely ignoring the duo, to the amusement of several of the dockworkers

Ushio piped up unsteadily in Japanese, prompting a second, more directed tirade at the destroyer, involving a spoon waved in a lecturing manner. The smaller ship began staring intently at the group and let out a soft reply, which, judging by the man's arrogant expression and Ushio's past tendencies, seemed likely to be an apology by Iowa's standards.

"Okay," Iowa began louder, "all we wanted was some patience and help." She began, "but you've been condescending and rude to my friend." She gestured towards the destroyer. "I-"

Iowa stopped, out of the corner of her eyes she spotted Ushio giving some very frantic looks around the base of her chair before glancing both ways down the road.

"What happened?" Iowa asked.

But the girl was busy tracking a target down the road, her shoulders and head slumping slightly downwards as the girl took on a full aura of defeat, letting out a pitiful, "oh," in a quiet tone.

The dock workers let out a raucious and mocking laugh that even the ramen shop owner took on as Iowa turned herself at the now distant target disappearing down the empty streets, a man in a blue dockworkers uniform. Wearing a pink backpack.

A quick look at the base of Ushio's stool confirmed the worst.

"Hey!" Cried the battleship sternly, her cry drowned out amongst the jeering laughs of the dock workers.

Iowa stood up, knocking the barstool down, "Get back here!" She called to the man, still underneath the giggles. She gave a quick glance back at Ushio, now sitting back on the barstool her head hung in defeat and sniffling slightly.

"Alright, to heck with this." She muttered, "we ain't gonna catch him like this."

"Hey scumbag!" She shouted, the laughs of the dockworkers choking into startled gasps and panicked falls onto the floor as her dual twin 12" turrets materialized on her back.

Taking her tone down slightly she glanced backwards towards her "A" gun. "Load me both barrels, just a single charge, I don't want a warhead." she explained to her gun crews

"Wait." Ushio called with alarm, now aware of Iowa's intent.

"She turned again towards the target, methodically addressing her bridge crew "Target bearing: three, five, eight. Range: 200 yards. Windage: zero knots."

"Iowa-" Ushio called.

Iowa hesitated briefly, a savage grin taking hold on her face.

"Fire one!" she yelled.

The explosion of a naval rifle, even a naval rifle scaled down by the improbable magic of a shipgirl was magnificent. Laundry over the road, scattering randomly across the path and any paper or other litter was thrown up by the hot winds generated by Iowa's shot.

The dock workers at the Ramen stand took it as their call to flee, rising from their impromptu hiding places off the street or hopping of their stools to rush off into the distance. On her target, however, the opposite and intended effect was achieved. The man fell prone and finally gave Iowa his attention, glancing back in abject horror at the smoking gun.

"Firstly." Iowa announced, making a right race towards the Ramin stall and sending an accusing point towards the owner, "I want an apology for my friend."

The alarmed desperation of the man seemed to indicate some sort of effort to recompense himself.

Iowa turned back to the prone man, still focused fully on her.

"Roosevelt taught me a thing or two about gunboat diplomacy and big sticks!" the battleship declared, proudly patting her smoking gun turret, walking slowly towards the cowering man. "The next one will be a bit more than just a fireworks display."

"You can't!" Ushio finally protested, following Iowa.

"Can't what?"

"You can't just shoot up the city."

"It was just enough powder to scare him, it wasn't going to escalate further." Iowa assured. "Like I said, gunboat diplomacy. It's all about having big guns, not necessarily using them."

"But-" Ushio protested mulling over the words before finally taking on a slight smile., "but thanks."

"Yeah, people taking things that don't belong to them upsets the American in me." Iowa declared as she took her backpack from the weeping form of the thief, offering it to the destoryer.

"Now, which direction gets us back on track to the bookstore?"

Ushio shrugged.

Over the blowing papers and weeping bandit, the distant sounds of sirens could be heard.

"Oh, that gives me a good idea," the battleship suggested enthusiastically, "maybe we could ask a government employee!"


	20. Chapter 20: Infighting and Outfighting

knock knock!" Zubian cheerfully called, finishing her circle around the destroyer patrol.

"God damn it." Muttered Ardent at the girl's pass, rubbing her temples underneath her sailors hat and desperately trying to avoid looking at the excited fellow destroyer.

"Who's there!" Fubuki answered to her flank with equal excitement.

"Um-" Zubian began, a finger to her mouth, pensively considering the question as if taken by surprise.

Ardent mumbled slightly under her breath and took the binoculars hanging on her neck up to her eyes, scanning the distant islands in a vain effort to both do her job and drown out the noises of Zubian.

"Oh! Pirates!" Zubian finally decided to answer, ascending again to flank speed loops around the patrol, the tassels on her sailors hat fluttering excitedly behind her.

"Pirates who?!" Fubuki asked, either ignorant or uncaring to the fact that Zubian was completely improvising everything.

Ardent binoculars did little to drown out the obnoxiously loud thinking noises Zubian made in her route, the younger destroyer sighed audibly as she scanned the thick jungles and the many inlets of the archipelago.

"Pirates are-" Zubian thought for a bit, slowing her speed dramatically while she thought, "pirates are fun?"

"I don't even get it!" Ardent began, pointing her binoculars accusingly at the older destroyer. Abandoning her efforts at reconnaissance, despite the patrol's intent.

Zubian slowed down, her Amber eyes giving a confused look at Ardent before offering a passive shrug, completely ignorant of the meaning of her own joke.

"Oh, wait, we've got it!" Zubian cried suddenly as she matching pace with Ardent and offered a sly smile, "pirates ARRRRR fun." She nudged the other girl in the ribs in a jovial manner, one eye closed and a finger curved in imitation like a hook "get it? ARRRRR?"

Ardent slowed, looking deadpanned at her fellow British ship. "I swear to God and country if you say anything like that again, I'm going to tell Glowworm you made a 'ramming speed' joke again." she shook her head slightly and brought the binoculars up again.

Zubian slowed slightly, looking slightly devastated about the comment and shifting to the side of Ardent with a pleading look, "come on mate, it wasn't that bad?"

"If Ushio were here she'd be crying." Ardent stated flatly to the aside.

"HEY!" cried an angry voice from the back of the patrol as Akebono let her hands previously gripping a radar set fall to her hips, "don't you dare talk about her like that! Especially behind her back!" she cried, staring daggers at the offending British ship.

"Issa joke mate," Ardent sighed through her binoculars, making effort to examine a particularly overgrown bay.

"It's about as funny as the last one was," Akebono cried angrily, eliciting joyful giggles from Zubian, "and stop picking on Ushio or you'll be sorry."

"Akebono please calm down," Fubuki pleaded disarmingly as she sailed in the narrowing gap between quarreling destroyers, "they'll stop."

"No! I'm tired of these British ships and their constant efforts to make fun of us." Akebono accused, angrily waving about her radar set.

"You need to learn the difference between good natured teasing and actual malice." Ardent called, dropping her binoculars again and anchored on her hips, "for instance, me telling Zubian her jokes are shit is teasing." She explained factually, "if I flipped her bed in he middle of the night because she wouldn't stop talking in her sleep, that'd be bullying."

"We thought that was Zulu waking us up?" Zubian muttered quietly with confusion, unheard of by the other ships.

"You're just a shitty boat and an angry person!" Akebono called pointing an accusing finger supported by a deck gun towards the British ship, "just leave Ushio and me alone and let us patrol, we never asked for this patrol and never wanted to accompany some dumb limey ships."

Fubuki sailed again in between the two vessels, kicking up a light wake as she coasted quickly into the gap, up a disarming gesture to compliment her alarmed and desperate expression. "Please stop fighting!" She pleaded.

"Oi, she's seems to like us just fine!" Ardent called around the newly arrived moderator towards her foe, "you're the only one who seems to have a stick up her arse!"

"She loves everyone, even if she doesn't like them!" Akebono called.

"Hey-uh guys?" Zubian called weakly from her place at the far right of the impending brawl. Her eyes trained on a distant landmass.

"That doesn't even make sense you nitwit!" Ardent scolded. "Besides, we invited her over for tea, we were going to do beer, but the admiral says heavy cruiser and larger only on that. The bastard." She added, with large gestures, "she had a great time, you might have too if you weren't such an insufferable arse."

"You still got her drunk!" Akebono accused even angrier.

Ardent threw her hands in the air, kicking up the patchwork red jacket she wore like a cape over her worn out sailor outfit, "who drinks tea without rum?!" she asked as though the answer was obvious. "and it's not like we slipped her liquor when she wasn't looking!"

Fubuki began mewing pathetically, completely overwhelmed and vainly attempting to keep both ships apart. Pleading desperately as she tried to get words past Akebono's anger fueled response.

"We see something" Zubian called louder, gesturing towards a distant island, prompting Fubuki to finally look away from the impending fight.

"What?" She asked curiously, still in her mediating position between the pair.

A distant island, partially hidden by the grooves of a closer landmass jutted out where Zubian was now repeatedly pointing and making excited emphatic noises towards, leaning herself behind her points and towards the island as if to make it more noticeable.

"It's right over there!" she called past the ridiculous gesture.

"Oh." Fubuki answered, setting her previously ready turrets down, "those are some old structures from the war. They're all around here," she answered shrugging.

"But we saw something!" Zubian wailed, not abandoning her pointing.

"Oh?" asked Fubuki, pulling a pair of binoculars from her rigging.

"I think it was an abyssal. It looked like a cruiser or something."

Ardent had stopped, grinning slightly from the joy she had over previous fight, "what's this about an Abyssal?" she called over her shoulder.

Zubian decided instead of answering, to continue pointing at the island and making emphatic noises. Lifting up one of her legs to bend into the point better, causing her sailor cap bearing her name to topple into the water.

"That doesn't help." Ardent answered, pulling her binoculars up to take in the scene herself. Mulling over the islands as she searched for the target, "which one was it?" she asked, still searching.

"The one with the grey building." Zubian continued, brushing water off her cap, "we saw it head behind the rock. We don't think it saw us though, but maybe it heard something." She added with a chiding tone.

"Bollocks." Ardent exclaimed as she searched the island, "I can't seem to-" she paused as a shape moved from behind the island, "there she is-".

"We told you!" Zubian began. Her soaking cap returned to its rightful place.

"Sodding brilliant, you earn a biscuit," Ardent began dryly, focused completely on the enemy ship in question. "She's a beauty- got a nasty set of guns, mixed calibers, hard to tell what exactly with these abyssals. But I'd like to see what she's doing. She seems awfully intent with that island." she finished, dropping the binnoculars to her chest.

"We'll give it our best!" Fubuki cried encouragingly.

"We're too far out of torpedo range, she'd eat us for breakfast." Ardent dismissed," best to call up and get a carrier or something out here"

"You're too far out of torpedo range because all you've got are your shitty stubby things!" Akebono lectured with personal pride, "Me and Fubuki have long lances, she'll have a hole in her side wide enough for you to sleep in before she even knows it, maybe if you weren't such a shitty ship, you could do something like that too.

"That's really gross." Ardent deadpanned.

Akebono just shot an angry look.

"Right. Afair enough, time and place." Ardent admitted, "where do you need to set?"

Fubuki, thought for a moment, rubbing her chin thoughtfully "Over there should do it." she finally decided, pointing at an intervening island, directly blocking line of sight towards the Abysaal.

"Right, me and Zubian will take the lead." Ardent decided, mentally checking her torpedoes, "fast and quiet Zube," Ardent announced before taking a steady pace towards the hiding area, giving tense glances towards the treetops she knew concealed the abyssals spot.

Slowing herself on the water when she nearedmthe ambush location a small wake formed at her front as she picked up the binnoculars again, heading towards the edge of the groove as she watched the Abysaal, more clearly now, angrily pacing back and forth in front of the cave's entrance.

"What is it you want?" Ardent asked the Abysaal quietly sizing it up."

It was cruiser sized and one of the more humanoid of the Abyssals, a grim assortment of armament and a particularly nasty belt accompanying an extremely displeased expression.

"What do you see?" Zubian asked in a loud whisper.

"Abyssals, and shut the hell up," Ardent answered, handing the binoculars off to the the more amicable of the Japanese, "she's got open water behind her, got to make the first spread count."

Akebono gave her an arrogant smirk, "Oxygen torpedoes don't make wake, we can shoot her all we want and she won't know." Akebono patted the launchers on her legs, drawing a similar grin from the British destroyer.

"Bloody brilliant, I love it," Ardent called, "me and Zube don't have anything on that, so if worse comes to worse I'd rather not make a charge."

Fubuki continued spying from her location, her face hidden partially behind a low hanging tree she crouched behind, "Looks like she's at anchor," Fubuki mulled quietly, "what do you think, Akebono? One spread each?"

"I'll do a wide, you hit her with a narrow, just to make sure she doesn't get too far." Akebono answered, her launchers quietly rotating into position and adopting a ready position.

Fubuki let out an enthusiastic fist in the air, "alright, let's go!" She called out quietly, but with no loss in enthusiasm. Until her face reddened noticably at Ardent and Akebono's confused expressions of response.

Zubian's response however more than matched Fubuki'sides enthusiasim. A loud cry of "huzzah!" coming from the British destoryer as Zubian double fisted her turret encased hands in the air.

The other destroyers gave a wide mix of, excepting Fubuki's case, angry and alarmed look at Zubian's outburst. Causing a sheepish look to take over Zubian, as her hands slowly lowered.

"Shut the hell up you daft bastard!" Ardent whispered with alarm, ducking down slightly, giving a brief and tense filled wait for incoming fire.

Non coming p, the destroyer moved to Fubuki'sides position, carefully attempting to conceal her movements. Until was greeted by a resounding shockwave and the heatwave of twin shells cutting through the foliage above her head, whizzing by until they splashed down in the distance behind her as the thunderous boom meet the now no longer hidden destroyers.

"Zubian you muppet!" Ardent cried through clenched teeth, screws biting into the water and torpedo tubes turning, "I'll fucking get you back for this one."

"You're the one who gave us away!" Zubian defended, as she took tried to gain steam.

"Look out" Fubuki cried, ducking into combat right behind Ardent, her own tubes turning and with a hiss of pressurized gas, the torpedoes flopped into the water behind her, "Destroyer Fubuki, tubes one through four expelled." she called loudly, any pretense of Ambush shattered by the exchange of fire.

Akebono grumbled slightly and took off behind Fubuki, giving her usual angry expression and leveling her torpedoes, delivering her own barrage of lethal torpedoes. "Destroyer Akebono, tubes one through four expelled." she called bitterly.

Zubian blustered her way past on unsure footing, turning the tubes hastily and firing her own torpedoes, the two steel tubes flopping at wide angle from each other, "Destroyer Zubian, tubes one through four expelled." she called with enthusiasim.

Ardent turned back, casting an angry glare at Zubian through the icing fire. "dammit Zube, you're out of range!"

"But the others-" Zubian began mortified, and clutching her pair of hip mounted torpedoe launchers protectively.

The conspicuous wake of Zubian's ill-advised barrage joined the faster and stealthier torpedoes of the Japanese ships, one heading at a far angle and the other surprisingly straight towards the Abysaal.

Her reloading finished, the Abysaal let out a savage cry of anger and frustration and fired again, missing Ardent narrowly. Odd shots began to open up as lighter, smaller guns began to join her main battery, the group of destroyers now closer for better shots at flank speed.

The arrival of the torpedoes however finally seemed to register to the Abysaal and broughterned look to her face, the warship began a wide right turn, eying Zubian's torpedoes. Tracking them as her firing became more wild and less aimed in the evasive action.

Ardent fired now, high explosive deck gun shots splashing uselessly near the lumbering abyssal, her guns joined by the sounds of Fubuki and Akebono and to no small surprise, Zubian's peashooters, nearly out of range.

"God damn you Zubian!" Ardent cried as another Cascade of water sprayed over her from a near shell hit, "she's going to dodge the torpedoes now!"

Zubian's torpedoes began to slow and soon the bubbles sigifying their presence dissipated entirely in the no man's land between the ships, with a sheepish grin from the destroyer.

The Abysaal however took on a more savage expression. Slowing her pace slightly she seemed to relish the time it took for her heavy turrets to train themselves firmly on Ardent.

It was then the long lance hit.

Impacting with a geyser of water across the Abyssal's bow and followed up with a hollow wail of anger and pain accompany by violent, rage filled thrashing.

"We did it!" Cried Fubuki, happily jumping on the water's surface.

The Abyssal let out another wail and made a last look of disgust and rage before turning steadily towards the open water behind her, letting out a thick and disgusting plume of black smoke, the only sense of her presence aside from the continously unearthyl rage and anguish filled howls from behind the choking smog.

"She's getting away!" Zubian called, turning her conspicuously empty tubes towards the Avyssal.

"Damn!" Ardent exclaimed in frustration, pounding angrily on her turrets. "She won't be hard to track and is slowed." She decided with biter resignation in her voice, "it's better to radio it in then risk open water." she turned toward the collapsed entrance of the sub pen, "Bucky, why don't you give it a look? Me and Zube will check around the back"

"I'm tired of these nicknames!" Akebono cried angrily. In response, throwing her arms up.

But Fubuki just let out an enthusiastic smile. And turned, heading toward the rubble strewn entrance at steady pace slowing shortly outside of it, all weapons at the ready.

Sensing the intent, Akebono turned too, training her remaining torpedoes at the entrance way and began steadily moving into a supporting position

Bringing herself to ¼ ahead Fubuki began creeping steadily toward the hole and then finally came to a stop just outside the entrance. The Gunboat ddestrpyer, hesitantly peaked her head in, finding the path too rubble strewn to see in, but noticing a thin area she could conceivably pick her way through, should she need to enter.

Deciding that blind entrance was a risky manuver the girl decided to call out. "Hello?" she announced in her native Japanese, voice echoing noisily through the walls.


	21. Chapter 21: Stranded 2

Slowly she came back to consciousness, her boilers steadily lighting, stirring slightly from her slumber wracked her with the dull pain of her improvised concrete sleeping area.

Slowly she began to accommodate herself to her surroundings with groggy realization and yawned unsteadily before brushing her disheveled brown hair out from her eyes.

She rolled into a sitting position, doing her best to keep her composer and avoid wincing at the discomfort her sleep had brought her.

It was then the pangs in her abdomen hit her.

"Is something up in engineering?" She addressed her bridge, "something feels off down in my holds."

A tiny officer let out a worried squeak.

"Oh- hungry. But I'm a warship-" she glanced down at her hands with a confused expression, "or I thought I was a warship- I guess hungry makes sense, given all-this?" she muttered, flipping her hands over in close examination.

"Right!" She declared with finality "I guess task of the day is attempted resupply."

A squeak of approval.

"But first," she began, pulling her compass up with a grimace. The needle stood firmly anchored a short ways to the right of the entrance she had used. She sighed frustratedly, "Right, something tells me that's a bad choice."

A squeak of agreement.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she smiled, "now thirdly, does anyone have a calendar? Or a clock? It might be nice to know when we are, even if we don't know where."

A squeak went up from her holds as the tiny sailors searched their living and working quarters for some sort of evidence of time, eventually a tiny seaman exited it's room, a bunch of paper held victoriously over its head.

"Oh? A calendar, does it have a year? Can I see it?" She asked enthusiasm evident in her voice.

A hesitant squeak, the fairy clutched the calendar protectively to it's chest.

"What do you mean 'no?'" she asked, confusion is her voice, "I just need to check the date, you can have it right back, I promise she reassured

The squeaks replied, the fairy now awkwardly balancing on it's toes and avoiding her gaze in a fashion that gave no small amount of guilty aura.

"I heard you." She answered exhaspirated, "is there a reason I can't see it."

A noncommittal squeak.

"What do you mean 'I won't approve', it's a calendar…"

The fairy began to make excuses. Hiding the offending document behind its back.

"Can I please see it? I promise I won't be mad." She asked, doing her best to reassure the tiny crewman

A hesitant hand reached out, reaching for it. The girl examined the tiny lump of parchment offered to her. Elicitng a bright blush once she brought it into clear view.

"This is me!" She cried with shock, pointing a finger towards the image in question, "where are my clothes!?"

A shameful squeak

"Yes there are technically clothes, but still-. it's the principle of the issue." She paused examening the image closer, "it is rather flattering though to be honest…"

She shook her head, attempting to regain her focus on the task, "right! The date!" She held the calendar up, rangefinders picking out the month and year below the scantily clad pictures of herself at dock.

"February of 42? That doesn't even make sense? I guess maybe someone put up the wrong month?" She asked confused.

A squeak of confusion.

"Because, I remember past it, admittedly not much past it," she shrugged, "but it can't be February, if I'm going by my gut I'd say it's at least a good six months longer."

The fairy gave the squeak equivalent of a shrug.

"Regardless, the Japs are out there! We may be a bit old, but our guns are-"

She paused looking down at her armaments.

"-our guns are ready." She finished with confusion.

"Why are our guns ready?" she asked.

A squeak.

"I suppose the question over being alive is- for more than one reason more difficult." She conceded standing up, her muscles painfully protesting all the while.

"Right." She announced, giving a wary glance at the entrance to the pen, before turning towards the exit, "task of the day: let's find some food."

Flicking on a searchlight, she descended again into the larger faucility.

The building was as sparse as she recalled, with little signs of furniture, let alone food. Coming to the rusty metal door that filled what her limited Japanese told her meant "entrance," she frowned. The handle mechanism and hinges were badly rusted, in fact, it was more accurate to say the handle and hinges were now misshapen chunks of oxidized iron.

She tried the handle shaped one, driving down hard enough that the handle flew off, driving her with great momentum into the door, denting it considerably and impacting her shoulder roughly.

"Ow!" She complained, rubbing her head where it impacted the door. "Everyone alright?" She checked.

She paused thinking, nodded, wound up and kicked the door square in the dented spot. The sound of protesting metal and the hinges flying off loudly echoed throughout the building. She let out an alarmed squeak, as the creaking falling door narrowly missed her.

As the dust cleared she sighed with frustrated defeat, a solid chunk of concrete filled he entranceway, though cracked heavily where the door was, it gave no indication of thickness or strength.

"Well. I guess things have never been easy in the past, why start now?" She pondered briefly, "let's try a pipe, that'd do it."

"huh? I was just going to take one from the ceiling, they're all over the place?"

"No I don't think whoever owns this place will miss it, it's been abandoned for years and besides it's clearly Japanese, they're our enemy!"

"Ah-" she paused, considering the remark. "How long has this place been abandoned…" she thought aloud. "Everything is pretty rusted." She paused addressing her crewmembers more directly, "are you sure it's 1942?"

The squeak sounded again,

"I know the calendar said so, but the rust, lime, and other stuff makes this place look really old." She called hesitantly. "I don't think "we'll find much here-"

She paused, glancing down at the compass, "maybe-" she began hesitantly, "maybe if we try and make a break for it under night's cover…" she announced, trailing off slowly.

"Right!" She announced firmly, before breaking into a yawn, "how long do we have until nightfall?"

A squeak answered, slightly dubious.

"Four hours? Really? Wow, no sense of time here." She answered, yawning slightly again with as much grace as she could manage. "Can never get too much sleep," she replied as laid down again on the stiff walls of the submarine pen. The tiny marines of her crew beginning to lay down their sandbags and razorwire with dedicated and angry high pitched squeaks.

She drifted off to sleep.

An explosion woke her, thundering her into a fighting position with only a moderate awareness at the pain such movement caused after a stiff sleep.

"Battle stations!?" She half asked and half declared, scanning the water that filled the pen with sleep-addled eyes. "Where are they?"

A second series of explosion, the sounds of naval rifles discharging echoed again from outside the entrance way.

"Are-" she began hopefully, "are our ships here yet?"

The explosions continued, naval fire of medium and small caliber guns sounding between forces whose location was made indistinct by the echoing walls of the concrete pen.

The fight continued for only a short period. Obvious trades of fire and distant indistinguishable voices sounding from the outside.

Eventually however she felt her compass vibrating slightly, noting with small relief that the arrow passed by and began to shake more, giving a feeling of the unkown assaliant fleeing from the field.

The girl stoop up, grinning wildly and readying herself to see a friendly face.

Until a sound came that gave her pause, stopping her in her tracks as she approached the water, her smile fading into a nervous grimace and eyes growing wide.

"Hello?" A Japanese voice had called.


	22. Chapter 22: Stranded 3

The voice called out again in Japanese, echoing through the dank walls of the submarine pen, a light flicked on, illuminating the previously dark and calm waters of the entrance way.

The woman stirred more seriously now, worry taking her usually soft face. She turned inward to her crew, "The Japs are coming, what do we do?" she whispered frantically.

Her faries for their part, were valiantly if vainly attempting to organize and find some sort of battle readiness, opening boxes at random from her stores to find ammunition or weapons, trying to build up steam in the boiler rooms and in the marines case, building sandbag walls upon the deck. Their borderline panicked helter-skelter did little to try and calm the girl's nerves as she desperately thought of a solution.

Her bridge crew offered a squeak solution as ripples began to appear near the entranceway.

"No! We can take the Japanese Navy in a fight" she explained, not bothering to hide her growing worry, "there's probably dozens of them out there! They may even have some of those big ships we kept hearing about like Nagato!" She gestured towards the entrance fruitlessly, "they're coming in and I'm not big and scary enough to-"

The girl stopped, looking at the wake, growing in size as whatever ship there crept through the rubble. The girl turned towards her crew, deep in thought, "what is the scariest ship we have?"

The faeries thought for a second before one offered a suggestion.

"Okay. I have an idea," the girl announced, putting a confident expression on and turning towards the entrance way,

"This is the gos-" she started quietly, her own voice slightly shaky from nerves. "Okay," she muttered to herself. "Deep breaths. You can do this, you just have to bluff them."

-xXx-

Picking her way through the path, Fubuki struggled to maintain a balance between alertness over enemy targets and watching out for rubble twisting its way near the surface. As such, going was slow as she nervously readied her torpedoes and 12.7 cm cannons to deal with any threats that her small hand lamp revealed.

She dodged a particularly gnarled hunk of rebar when a voice seemed to echo from deep within the cavern, bouncing off the slimy and dark concrete walls.

"S-stop!" It began with uncertainty in heavily accented Japanese, Prompting the destroyer to slow herself to an eventual stop.

"um-hello?" Fubuki called uneasily into the dark and rubble strewn tunnel, raising her weapons slightly. "Who's there?"

-xXx-

"I said stop!" The girl cried louder, dropping her Japanese for an, in other circumstances, comically phony southern drawl. She held her cap in her hands, nervously kneading it while giving anxious looks towards the entrance, her batteries trained firmly on the now stationary light source.

"This is-!" She began loudly towards the entrance way "the-" she repeated, whatever confidence her louder speech carried with it faltering with her lack of preparation.

"What's the scariest ship we have?" She quietly and frantically asked her bridge crew, not removing her eyes from the light trickling through the rubble. "Those ones with the 16s that have been coming out so much as of late?"

A chorus of unhelpful squeaks began echoing throughout her bridge. Before with finality, an ensign called out a confident answer.

"I um- I thought it was _South_ Dakota?" She whispered with tense confusion, still toying nervously with the sailor cap that bore her name so proudly

The squeak answered confidently, the fairy crossing its arms with certainty and pride.

"Hello?" The voice called out again, this time joining in in accented English that bounced off the walls. "Are you American?" the voice asked, the light

"I SAID THIS IS THE GOSH-" the girl cried out loudly in her fake drawl, "THIS IS THE GOD DAMNED USS NORTH DAKOTA" she began as confidence grew. "I'VE GOT-". She quickly turned towards her bridge crew, "how many 16s?" She quickly whispered, desperately attempting to continue the charade.

A different excited squeak called out a number.

"FIFTY-" she called out before stumbling over the absurdity of the number, quickly offering an amended answer and an angry glare at her bridge crew, "TWELVE! I HAVE SIXTEEN INCH GUNS, TRAINED ON THIS HERE ENTRANCE COVE. I WILL BLOW ANY JAP THAT MAKES THEIR WAY THROUGH HERE STRAIGHT TO-"

"STRAIGHT TO THE GREAT EMPEROR IN THE SKY!" she finished with growing confidence, still watching the light as it turned around.

-xXx-

"What the bloody hell?" Ardent asked, rubbing her capped head in confusion as she coasted towards her Japanese counterpart emerging from the darkness of the submarine pen. "Bucky, whose Cheerios did you piss in this morning?" the British ship demanded with confusion.

"I never-" Fubuki began, blushing at the accusation.

"S'an expression." Ardent explained aside, "I'm just wondering what the hell you did to get that Yankee yelling at you so much."

"I didnt-" Fubuki began.

"She's just an American, they're all yelling and angry all the time anyways." Akebono angrily dismissed. "It's not like we need more, just leave her in there."

"My agreements aside, we'd probably be in a whole bucketload of shit if we left an allied ship in a cave out in the middle of nowhere." lectured the English ship.

Akebono crossed her arms to add to her disappointed expression but said nothing to disagree.

"Right." Ardent announced, turning towards the cave entranceway. "This is HMS Ardent to USS- uh" she hesitated briefly trying to recall, "USS whoever the hell you are. We're here to bring you home, you can see all you friends and uh-" Ardent scratched her head, mulling over her inability to talk decently to anyone and giving pleading looks for assistance to the other destroyers standing outside before, assistance not forthcoming, finally returning to her previous conversation. "Look just come on out." she pleaded to the darkness of the cavern.

The voice was quiet briefly, most likely considering the implications of a British vessel talking to her. Ardent allowed herself a small feeling of victory.

"Can't fool me you Japs!" The voice called out, the drawl taking on a bit more of a southern belle tone, though slightly and mercifully quieter than before.

The feeling was dashed.

"No, really!" Zubian called from the back, we're all friends now! "The Japs and Jerries and everybody!"

"Y'all have been trying to kill me since I got here. Just stop talking now, y'all are trying to do that Pearl Harbor trickery again. I recall hearing about those peace talks."

"This is going splendidly." Ardent muttered into her palm, adding an eye roll to ensure just about everyone understood how little she wanted to do this right now. "Right, time to fall back to favorite plan."

"But Glowworm and Campeltown are in the Mediterranean." Zubian explained with confusion.

"No. Not that plan," Ardent explained holding up her Union Jack decorated cellphone, "The other one, second favorite."

Zubian thought for a second before her expression lit up "call the Yanks and break for lunch!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Yes." Ardent affirmed as she plugged in numbers.

"Dutches of the Waves calling port Mosby." the British girl answered upon hearing an answer on the other end.

"Ardent?" called the American voice on the other end, confusion in their voice, though quite welcoming in it's tone, "I thought you were out on patrol?"

"We are, long story, we found one of your gals stuck in a cave."

"Which one?" The American asked, excitement growing. "Is it another one of my sisters." Ardent swore she heard and adorably excited squeal.

An excited American voice began loudly asking about names in the background, joined in by another slightly less loud but still excited tone. Grabbing noises and muffled shouting accompanied the false revelation as Franks fought her sisters off of her phone.

"Mate, there's already like sixty of you, how many more can you get?"

"There's fifty five, which leaves 120 more." she answered proudly, "unless we get one that wasn't finished."

"Holy shit really?" Ardent asked with genuinely impressed surprise.

"Is it not one of my sisters?" Franks asked, the adorable excitement waning from her voice.

"Sorry, no, she says her name is-" Ardent began explaining, feeling surprisng amounts of guilt over her friend's self-administered false hope before realizing she herself had forgotten the Battleship's name. Turning again towards the cave entrance she called out, "What did you say your name was?"

"I-um. I said North-God-Damned-Dakota." the voice loudly responded in what now sounded like a vaguely hillfolkish accent.

"Did you get that?" Ardent asked into phone, heedless of the angry American hiding away in their cave.

"North Dakota?" Franks asked with no small amount of confusion.

"It's what she said."

"I don't know North Dakota. I don't think she was even in the war." "Well, just wait there," Ardent' American friend continued as a small measure of her previous excitement returned "we'll get it sorted once Atlanta finished bailing Iowa out of jail, in the meantime don't hurt her or get hurt."

"Wait- what?" Ardent called into the now dead line.


	23. Chapter 23: The Brig

The room was mostly bare, a few chairs and desks to the far end marking some sort of in processing station while the sizable banks of uncomfortable plastic chairs anchored into the floor provided somewhere to lock up the less reputable members of society while the police figured out wether to topake them down the short hallway leading to the entranceway and release them or down deeper into the cells for further processing. Such a chair was one Iowa found herself firmly fastened to by several restraints.

A small part of Iowa felt a need to slip into stereotypes and begin playing a harmonica to highlight her current predicament. The two problems of course were her current lack of harmonica and the fact that she was currently handcuffed. That and the dozens of fairies sitting atop her bridge all playing dozens of different out of tune jailbird songs enthusiastically were making the prospect of playing it herself rather unappealing.

Still a comparatively small part of her was happy that the irritating cacophony helped to distract her from her current predicament.

The police for their part seemed determined not to let the music bother them and instead focused on their own conversation. Leaving Iowa to sit and sulk.

The two officers who had brought her in, an older and a younger officer seemed to be having an intense debate between each other and the phone, or more accurately, whoever was on the phone.

Iowa sighed, propping her head on her hands, the faeries still continuing their jailhouse music.

"Okay, I get it, I got us arrested, you don't need to rub it in." she admitted to her crew, exasperated.

The faeries continued playing, she could swear it got both louder and more out of tune. Jerks.

"Come on guys, I just need to talk to the police and get a call out, if you could just stop playing, it'd be great as is you're just making them mad."

The crowd of faeries turned their backs to the battleship in synchronization, they were now definitely playing their harmonicas as loudly and as out of tune as their tiny reddening cheeks would let them, creating a horrifyingly bad concert.

"Come on guys, we need to work together."

A fairy turned around, glaring at Iowa with its tiny beady eyes as it played its little heart out.

"Come on, please." The battleship begged. "I was just trying Gunboat Diplomacy out again, we now know it's not a big thing anymore."

The fairy stopped briefly, delivered a series of angry squeaks in an out of breath voice and then violently began playing her harmonica again.

Iowa let out a frustrated growl, throwing her hands into the air in desperation, an audible metallic snap accompanying the gesture. Confused she glanced towards her wrists, where two handcuffs bearing now slack and separated chains were still firmly locked, though now completely useless at their original purpose.

She quickly threw her hands back together, between her legs to hide her unintentional bout at freedom. Red in the face she gave a pensive glance at the two police officers.

Thankfully, they still continued their angry debate. Also her crew were now too busy trying to look uninvolved in her accidental breakout to worry about harmonicas. She was torn between calling them turncoats and being thankful for the quiet.

"Um, excuse me?" She called to the bickering officers, taking advantage of the lack of an uncoordinated harmonica orchestra interrupting her.

The two men continued talking, arguing either with each other or the phone. One of them glanced back, confirming their disinterest in talking to her.

"Is Ushio still okay?" the American called over, more demand in her voice this time.

One of the police turned, at hearing the voice and offered a half-assed thumbs up. Iowa's hard expression still didn't convey confidence in her situation. Pressing the issue was like to cause more problems than solve though, as proved by the still functional restraints on her legs.

She crossed her arms over her chest and decided instead to wait.

And one of her fairies picked up the harmonica again. Her slight frown intensified to the level of "definite annoyance".

The conversation on the phone stopped suddenly with the younger officer throwing his hands into the air in exasperation, picking up several papers and heading down the hall. The second man turned and his frustrated expression turned to vague panic at the notice of Iowa's lack of handcuffs.

Iowa offered a shrug and a bashful grin, hiding her hands between her legs again at a vague attempt at hiding it. Her Fairies, again abandoned their harmonicas switched over to 'don't look guilty' mode.

The man's horrified expression moved over to frustration and he announced something angrily in Japanese as he pulled a second pair of handcuffs out, with clear intent. The battleship, obliged him, holding out her hands as second pair of handcuffs joined the battered remnants of the first, Iowa shurgged.

Intereupting her focus on the man's vain efforts to hold back over 10,000 tons of warship, a series of voices, both in Japanese, a male and a female with a slight accent, began coming from down the hall. Iowa struggled to turn down the hallway, but glancing at the cold glare of the remaining police officer as he locked the restraints in place and decided to remain seated.

"Is that harmonica music?" San Juan asked rounding the corner and grinning wildly at either the ridiculous antics of Iowa's crew or Iowa's current predicament. Probably both. Behind her followed Ushio and the older policeman.

Iowa offered a sheepish shrug as the music died at the light cruiser's entrance, "They've been doing it regardless of what I say."

"Consider treating them better, the more they like you, the more they listen." the light cruiser lectured, not abandoning her expression.

"Anyway, apparently I'm here to bail you out of the big house." San Juan explained, doing absolutely nothing to hide the smug expression on her face, "always figured it'd be Haggard first, or Willie d."

Ushio smiled slightly and waved. Iowa decided to return the expression, ignoring San Juan's rant.

"You okay?" Iowa asked the destroyer.

Ushio nodded, "they were just giving me somewhere to sit while they figured things out." She explained quietly, "I even got a sticker."

She added, pointing to a shiny police badge on her schoolgirl outfit.

"No justice for you Iowa!" San Juan laughed. "Well, at least you picked a good time to get arrested with Atlanta busy elsewhere."

"What's Atlanta doing?" Iowa asked with confusion.

San Juan's expression lost a small amount of it's mockery, replaced by an odd mixture of worry and optimism, "I'll brief you on the way back, right now, we need to get going." The Atlanta class called something in polite Japanese to the two officers.

The older and younger policeman began bickering again. Before the younger one removed his keys and accompanyed by an expression that did absolutely nothing to hide his anger, began working on removing the Battleship's restraints.

"I owe you one." The battleship exclaimed to San Juan, rubbing her previously handcuffed hands compulsively.

"Save your gratitude for after whatever Atlanta and our superiors have to say." San Juan dismissively stated, before having a quick exchange of Japanese with the two policemen. The light cruiser patted Ushio affectionately on the head, making the smile on the smaller girl slightly more evident, "come on, let's head out."

Iowa's brief happiness at her newfound freedom died soon after San Juan led them out the glass doors of the small local station and into the cramped and shaded streets of the edges of the city.

"Holy shit she really did get arrested!" Called a familiar voice from the street side.

Iowa shot the destroyer an angry glare, "How was the arcade Haggard?" The battleship asked dryly, searching for a witty rebute.

"Not as fun as this!" The destroyer exclaimed, crossing her arms smugly and adopting a grin to match. "What was it you said about flares?"

"Please don't mock Iowa" Franks quietly pleaded, tugging her sister's sleeve lightly. "You'll just make each other mad."

"But I guess cannons are okay?" Haggard added, ignoring her sister's pleas.

"She was just trying to help!" Ushio defended quietly.

Haggard shrugged, "She still got arrested, which is funny."

"Gunboat Diplomacy." Iowa added dryly, patting the Japanese girl appreciatively on the head "it worked."

Haggard just laughed at the Battleship's expense, "I guess the Spanish never tired arresting you."

"Hey Haggard?" San Juan butted in sternly.

"Yes Juan?" the destroyer asked, lowering her arms from the smug position.

"Shut the hell up." The light cruiser admonished. "Believe it or not we actually need Iowa."

"Well that's a first." The destroyer mocked, slightly less smug in her voice now that the light cruiser had taken arms against her.

"Again, shut up" San Juan explained with more seriousness, "we can make fun of Iowa later, right now we have things to do."

"What's the problem?" Iowa asked, not abandoning her ruffling of Ushio's hair but still concerned over the news.

"Well, apparently we've got a second battleship."

All heads turned.

"And we want Iowa to try and convince her that the war is over and no one is trying to kill her" San Juan began explaining, as she headed towards a waiting series of parked military vehicles, "also making sure she doesn't get scared enough to kill anyone in return."

Haggard laughed again.


	24. Chapter 24: Theorycrafting

Easing the manilla envelope she carried into her opposite hand., Atlanta rapt quickly on the wooden door.

"Come in." A female voice responded distractedly.

Pushing he door open and entering, the room revealed 3 figures at various stages of work. The room's owner, Commander Andrews, occupied the large desk at the center of the room's far wall was currently tackling a daunting amount of paperwork. To her right he subordinate, the Lieutenant Commander appeared to be thoroughly examining a map of various islands and specific location that was put up on a whiteboard. The final figured would have been easy to miss, especially had Atlanta not known she'd be working tirelessly in near the same spot since her arrival a few days ago. Stewart worked quietly in the corner behind the door, tirelessly tackling various forms in order to fill out the kanji laden paperwork that was necessary to operate in a joint naval Base.

Andrews gave a quick glance up towards the light cruiser from her stack of paper "I told you that you don't need to bother knocking." she chastised, pushing aside a stack of paperwork.

Atlanta ignored the comment, "ma'am!" She offered, saluting with her unused hand.

Andrews sighed and offered a salute from her desk, a further explanation of Atlanta's lack of need to follow formal military protocol dying at the futility of it.

"Do we have an update on our mystery girl?" She asked, giving a glance back towards the map that Mitchell's examined thoroughly.

"We're still in contact with Ardent and her girls. Apparently they've lost contact with the mystery ship, she's flatly refusing to talk with Japanese ships at this point. Though still doesn't appear to have left the facility, they haven't had an radar contacts leaving the island." the light cruiser explained.

"Do you think she's low on fuel?"

"If not completely out of it. who knows how long she's been sitting there eating through her supplies." Atlanta glanced down at the manilla folder, handing it off to the woman at the desk

"Thank you, go ahead and take a seat if you'd like." The woman muttered, opening the folder and looking through several pictures of a cage masted vessel and technical documents identifying key features speculated to be important to a shipgirl."what do you know about the USS North Dakota?" She finally asked after a lengthy period of staring at the form "I can't say I'm terribly familiar with her, was she a Standard class?"

"Nothing, personally she was scrapped before the war."

The human officer looked surprised, throwing he folder casually on her desk "Then why is she so angry over the Japanese?" she asked thoughtfully.

"The two possibilities that come to my mind are that she either inherited a large amount of personal grudge against Japan for whatever secondhand sources she came across in the middle of the Pacific Ocean."

"You mean during her rest as a wreck?" The officer asked, folding her arms onto her desk.

Atlanta shook her head and leaned forward in the chair, "not possible I'm afraid, the battleship USS North Dakota was scrapped."

"So you're saying she'd have to acquire the information secondhand after she'd been summoned, probably by one of our ships?"

Atlanta nodded, "barring some sort of part in her hull being used during the war or, pardon my language, 'sparkly shipgirl bullshit' as the Lieutenant Commander is so fond of calling it." She gave an amused glance towards he man working on the whiteboard, getting an expression only of mild surprise in return.

The senior officer ignored Atlanta's break in character. "That doesn't seem likely, most shipgirl memories and personality is built strongly from personal experience or construction. And you seem to be saying neither of that would build a hated towards the Japanese."

"It seems an unlikely possibility, Atlanta agreed."

"So you mentioned a second possibility?"

"I personally believe that whatever ship is in that cave, it's not the North Dakota." Atlanta answered, giving a glance to a large red "x" mounted to an island on the whiteboard.

"An abyssal?" the woman asked worriedly.

"I hadn't discounted the possibility" Atlanta conceded. "But I'm not entirely certain that's the case either, it would seem an Abysaal would attack, or at the very least not be so willing to talk."

"But why impersonate a ship that sunk before the war?" Lieutenant Commander Mitchells interjected, abandoning the whiteboard with a dramatic capping of a red pepper to examine a photo of the ship in question.

"Well, either whatever is in that cave doesn't know North Dakota sank" Atlanta explained

"Which seems odd given she clearly knows the war happened and is extremely afraid of the Japanese. Implying she has either firsthand or direct secondhand experience." Mitchells argued, his extremely thorough and intense examination of the battleship's screws causing Atlanta to redden slightly.

"or she may also be making North Dakota up not knowing it's a real ship." the light cruiser finished.

"In that case why not just use a real ship, god knows we've got enough storied Battleship's that aren't around to impersonate." the senior officer finished, as she gave a curious glance to the compromising image of the battleship that Mitchells seemed to keen to examine, prompting Atlanta to send some pitying thoughts to its spirit, wherever it may be.

"Unless she doesn't know they aren't around." Mitchells murmured, finally setting down the image.

"Or doesn't know them well enough to know their names with great familiarity." the human woman agreed.

"What kind of ship would be invested in the war enough to be wary of the Japanese but not enough to be able to name a single battleship?" mitchells questioned, pulling up a second photo.

The Commander interlocked her fingers, clearly giving the question deep consideration "A transport?" She offered "Maybe doing convoy duty in the Atlantic?"

"Could be," her subordinate agreed, "I know the Japanese have a supply ship reportedly."

"Some sort of Auxiliary vessel seems likely. Enough to see the warships and get the wartime attitudes, maybe get a few shots at her." Atlanta agreed.

"Maybe someone scrapped or sunk early in the combat?" Mitchells announced as an alternative.

The office owner sighed, running her fingers through her hair in exaspiration, "whatever the case, we need someone with reputation to talk it down."

"Clearly whoever or whatever is there did not have enough know how to name any of our wartime battleship's, who do we have that they would recognize?" the light cruiser asked thoughtfully.

"We could send Iowa." Mitchell's suggested. "At the very least she's likely to respond well to another battleship."

"And at the very worst at least Iowa has a thick belt, if whoever this is turns out to be hostile." Atlanta affirmed.

"I'd hate to throw her to the wolves like this, she's untested and just got back." the desk owner ascended, as, to Atlanta's mercy, she began putting away her collection of lewd battleship photos.

"I can go ma'am." Atlanta pridefully offered, peeling her eyes from the photos, "I've got good speed. If worst comes to worst Im fast enough to get out."

"I'm not letting you go straight into the middle of an unknown and difficult to navigate situation with the belt you have." Andrews replied with a shake of her head, "you can try and coax our mystery gal from the outside but Iowa goes in if anyone needs to."

"Aye ma'am."

"Was there anything else?"

"There was one abnormality Ardent reported." Atlanta began, raising a mixture of curiosity and concern from the two officers. "Reportedly when they first encountered the unknown shipgirl, she was besieged by a large and armed Abyssal, class unknown, who was holding outside the entrance way. The task force engaged and drove the ship off, but they've had a few more sightings since then."

Mitchells took a sympathetic look, "That might explain why she's so jumpy, poor girl's been hounded."

Atlanta nodded, "it seems the Abyssal has expressed no small amount of interest in sinking her."

"So would it stand to reason this Abyssal is her Abyssal doppelganger?" Andrews asked, once again folding her fingers before her face in thought.

"That was my first thought as well."

"That bodes interestingly, it makes sense that an auxiliary ship, Abyssal or not would hold off engaging destroyers." Mitchell mused, "but the whole business seems to complicate things."

"Agreed," Mitchells sighed, "it's certainly a problem but if the destroyers scared it off, they should be fine, at least for now, but if you could keep me updated, I'd appreciate it." Andrews announced, finally sealing the envelope, "if there's nothing else, i think we need to focus on identifying and assisting this girl before hunting her Abyssal twin."

"That seems sensible" Atlanta agreed

"Right." Andrews affirmed, dropping the semi-somber mood with her loud decisiveness. "Once San Juan and the Taffies finish bailing the girl out of jail, we'll have them sail from the nearest port. Atlanta can rendez-vous with them out at sea."

A horrible sound of crinkling and shattering plastic broke the conversation and all eyes came to Stewart, who sat with her usual calm demeanor broken by a slightly more intense than usual frustrated grimace.

In her hand, the pen she had been using to work out the Japanese language forms consisted only of a top and bottom, the central section she had been gripping was naught but shattered plastic, presumably still held in the tight in stained fist she had slammed shut over the table. Ink spilled over the various forms staining them in a dull black pool.

It took several seconds for the girl to figure out that all eyes were now on her and to turn towards the assemble trio, briefly casting them and angry glare before settling her face into her normal placid grumpiness. The trio returned several looks of shock and, in Atlanta's case a matronly disapproving glare.

"Apologies ma'am, my pen slipped." She answered, still grasping the writing implement with white knuckles.

"Um, okay." Andrews answered with nervousness in her voice, before recovering slightly after a few seconds of thinking. "That's okay, Mitchells is quite good at Japanese too, he can fix up the rest of it."

"I'm fine ma'am". Stewart assured. "Forgot my own strength' the destroyer answered, with telling quickness.

"Are you sure?" The woman asked with genuine concern.

"Yes ma'am." Stewart replied

She turned to Atlanta, who still cast a disapproving glare at Stewart. "Maybe taking Stewart with you would be a good idea, get some escort for you on the way to rejoin Iowa and she's been cooped up in her for a few days, a sortie might help."

"There's no need for that ma'am." Stewart defended, "as I said earlier, just forgot my own strength."

"Which seems to me to indicate that you're distracted. In any case, Atlanta still needs an escort, I could ask the Japanese if you feel unfit for combat duty."

Stewart bristled slightly, standing suddenly, her hand still stained black, "no ma'am. Still fit for duty." She said hastily.

"Excellent, eat up and kit out, Atlanta is in charge of the mission timetable, just let us know when you leave and expect to be there."

"Ma'am." Stewart and Atlanta announced together.

Andrews began her work again, getting a sentence into her reports before glancing up to affirm that both girls were still there.

"Damn it, I said before you Shipgirls aren't sailors. You don't need permission to be dismissed." She made a shooting motion, "go. Bring me a battleship or who or whatever is in that cave."

"Ma'am." Both ships announced again. Before Stewart did a parade ground approved about face and exited the room, followed by an irate Atlanta


	25. Chapter 25: Contact

Haggard sighed as she finished another lap around the formation, clearly unimpressed with Iowa's speed. "When is Atlanta getting here?" She asked warily with a thin line of impatience, glancing up and down the far horizon.

San Juan's attention was peaked and she set down her sonar headset, "well that's a first, you actually *want* to see my sister." She chided, with teasing sarcasm, adjusting the frequency of her headset.

Haggard gave her deep laugh, "Yeah, but it's going to be funny!" she answered, stealing a quick glance at Iowa.

"What's going to be funny?" Hailey interjected with confusion.

"Atlanta's going to be sooo pissed," Haggard giggled, "after Iowa got arrested and all."

Overhearing the conversation, Iowa gave an sulking and angry glare towards the trio, particularly at Haggard, who, for her part just returned her trademark shit eating grin. San Juan laughed quietly to herself, glancing over the two offending Shipgirls.

"I can't possibly be the first shipgirl to have had trouble with the police, besides, I was in the right!" Iowa defended, arms thrown up in exasperation, "tell them Ushio," she cried immediately looking slightly regretful and the quiet shriek of alarm the Japanese ship let out at being outed.

San Juan shrugged, "first I've heard of it happening."

Haggard, looked dubiously at the light cruiser, skidding closer to her and thinking slightly about her comment until a look of recognition passed by her face, "you just got summoned." she announced factually.

San Juan returned her sonar headset and crossed her arms, now clearly interested in the destroyer, "yes and now I'm extremely curious who got arrested." She replied, grinning wrly.

Hailey giggled lightly again, "well, there was Hipper getting thrown through a bar wall." she remarked offhand.

"But she was smart enough to bail out before they caught her." Haggard retorted.

"What about Hood?" Franks interjected from the side, moving into the conversation with surprising quickness.

Haggard let out a guffaw at the comment.

"Did she ever get arrested though?" Hailey asked, greeting her sister.

Franks shook her head, "No, after she punched the second police boat, Geoergie managed to talk her down."

"Wait." San Juan cried difinitively, mimicking a referee's gesture "timeout. Hood punched a police boat?"

"Two police boats," Haggard interjected proudly "and a schooner."

"Right! Duh, you wouldn't have heard." Hailey proclaimed excitedly. "Apparently Hood came back in the middle of the Thames during some parade on tower bridge and thought she was still dying, she punched some schooner she came out next to and sank it."

"Then the cops came!" Haggard added excitedly.

"Right," Hailey added, clearly joining in on Haggard's energy, "they sent a few boats and a helicopter, which freaked her out even more and started a chase, she ended up driving through one of them and punching another in full view of the parade. luckily King George managed to get herself into the river and talk her down before she remembered she had cannons."

San Juan was silent for awhile, gazing with a steady nod at the pair of destroyers, "That may be the best story I've ever heard." She deadpanned with eventuality.

"It's on youtube." Franks interjected quietly.

"Yeah it trended all over, there are some funny remixes of the footage too."

Iowa laughed lightly at the edges of the conversation, "now I don't feel so bad about my summoning."

Giving a curious grin, Haggard turned to the battleship, churning her screws in the water to move in a more confrontational position , "why? What happened to you?"

Iowa's grin died instantly, "nothing interesting," she lied with little subtlety.

"Come on Iowa, you can't do that," Hailey admonished, "we saw you covered in flour or something."

Ushio finally pulled herself into the group, meekly attempting to make eye contact with the light cruiser who led the formation, "um-excuse me." She began

Iowa waved her away as she made her slow turn away from the convoy, trying to hide herself, "no, I don't think I was-"

Haggard took a smug expression, crossing her arms to compliment her we grin and began matching speeds with Iowa, going ahead reverse a few meters in front of the battleship, making direct eye contact and matching pace with the early battleship.

"Hey Iowa." Haggard asked in a smug tone. "What happened on your summoning."

"Hey so- I think Atlanta is coming soon-" the battleship poorly attempted to avoid.

"I'm tracking on radar, she's close to reaching the horizon." Haggard dismissed, "but that doesn't answer my question."

Iowa gave a desperate look around in the unsympathetic faces of the other Shipgirls for assistance, instead receiving equally eager demands for an answer. "I got summoned in a bathtub."

Ushio gave a nervous and unsure dance behind San Juan's back, raising her hand unsuredly in an effort to decide whether or not to give it an attention grabbing tap.

"That raises more questions than it answers."

"It was Lieutenant-Commander Mitchell's bathtub."

Haggard laughed, "Still doesn't answer most of my questions, but it is hilarious, so I'll give you that."

Iowa grumbled something under her breath. Giving a judgemental glance over the assembled Shipgirls until her eyes meet the nervous and unsure expression of Ushio, holding herself behind San Juan. "Hey, Ushio, is something wrong?" she asked with genuine concern

Forced into the limelight, Ushio gave a startled gasp, before working to compose herself with considerable effort. "I-um" she began, before taking a deep breath, "I saw something on my radar."

San Juan laughed lightly, "yeah, I spotted her a few minutes back. that's just 'lanta, she's always a bit early."

"But she's alone." Ushio replied, shooting a worried glane in the contact's direction.

San juan's grin faded at the revelation and she gave an unsure look towards the horizon, "ah, shit that's right. She's bringing Stewie." San Juan gave a quick analysis of her charges, "we've got one unknown contact," she affirmed, pointing towards the horizon rather than giving a bearing.

"What's the plan?" Hailey asked, her radar dish on her gear now spinning up to identify the target more thoroughly.

"Well, we're not here to fight the odd Abyssal contact," San Juan announced, she reached into her rigging and pulled a large cardboard tube, unrolling the map contained within. "Right." She announced, "we've got a more direct route to the objective if we head there straight instead of trying to regroup with Atlanta and her escort. I propose we head up there to that way to try and avoid our unknown."

"can't we just fight them?" Haggard demanded, raising her five inch turret in the air like a war standard.

San Juan gave an incredulous gaze, "We're not even sure what it is, I'd rather have Atlanta be a bit delayed then roll up on an Abyssal Yamato with Iow-" San Juan caught Iowa's expression with a flustered look. "Without heavy enough firepower to take her down." She recovered, "if we head on a straight course, we've got enough distance to lose our pursuer in the Archipelagos"

"right!" Haggard announced with false conviction, "was going to suggest that."

Franks gave her sister a skeptical look with hints of admonishment, but said nothing.

"Let's get a patrol pickett set up, one destroyer on each flank and the front and back, me and Iowa will support from the center."

"Right!" Came a chorus of affirmatives

The formation scattered, each ship, assuming their given place as the course began to change on a more direct route to their destination.

San Juan, pulled up a second headset, from the depths of her rigging. with a concentrated expression uncharacteristic of her normal jovial self, and began tapping in Morse code, the rhythmic taps replacing the earlier jovial conversation, leaving Iowa with little to distract her from the thin and dirty stream of belching black smoke that wafted from the distant horizon.

When Iowa looked over to the destroyers, she noted already they had their own tasks that they were undertaking with surprising diligence. Haggard and Hailey, mostly focusing on the sky, apparently pursuing the enemy was a carrier the pair of them scanned the airspace of their respective flanks. For her part, Franks seemed dead set on ensuring that the enemy ship was monitored, her green eyes nervously set dead center on the smoke cloud.

Iowa herself watched the thin trickle of smoke for quite some time, eyeing the stream with curious eyes in an attempt to guess distance and direction, after several long minutes guesstimating, she called out to the destoryers.

"Hey Fran?" Iowa called after mulling her thoughts over for several minutes.

Franks gave a startled look as her stare down with the enemy was broken. "Huh?" She managed to let out.

"Do you know the enemy's heading?" Iowa finally asked, "I've been watching for awhile and haven't seen the smoke grow or shrink much."

Franks gave a look of momentary confusion, before answering

, "Me neither," she replied, returning to her watch, "I think they're heading the same way as us."

"Which is fantastic," San Juan interjected dryly, her headset now replaced by a pair of binoculars from whatever real she drew her equipement from

"At least we'll have cover," Franks suggested quietly, "we've got the Archipelagos closing up front."

"And if any battleship fights us in there, it'll be Suritago's less dramatic sequel," the cruiser announced, dryly tapping her torpedoes.

"Suritago?" Iowa asked, expression unsure and reference completely missed

"We'll fuck their face with a gratuitous amount of torpedo based ordinance," the light cruiser announced dryly, bringing her binoculars back up to watch the enemey

Iowa' expression abandoned none of her uncertainty but took on a look of minor disgust at San Juan's expression. "Ah." Was all she managed to exclaim.

Franks, apparently unconcerned with San Juan's statement, still gave a nervous look at the black cloud,

"But it looks like she's avoiding the islands, in favor of open water." San Juan announced, handing her binoculars to the battleship present.

The thin wisp had continued onwards, stalking the formation from the benefits of clear water.

"What does that mean?"

"Well, given they're alone and obviously interested in us, I'd say the mysterious Abyssal friend that's been harassing the destroyers is back."

"Should we be worried," Iowa asked, a twinge of doubt in her voice.

"Nah." If whatever it is is afraid the engage four destroyers, I can't imagine her wanting to pick a fight with a larger group." San Juan replied, "still though, it's clearly interested in our mystery friend, we'll have to keep an eye on it"

Iowa gave a glance towards the islands, encroaching on the group, "it's going to be hard to do that with these islands here."

San Juan laughed, tapping the dish attached to her rigging, "radar," she replied, in a teasing fashion, "honestly not sure how you function without it.

The battleship hesitated briefly before offering a shrug for lack of a response and gave one last look before the black smoke was hidden behind the islands of their destination.

I


	26. Chapter 26: Ghosts

She awoke with a groan, rolling carefully over as her hull protested her sleeping arrangements through sore and stiff joints.

Sitting up, she, yawning slightly, still covering her mouth despite the pitch blackness and utter solitude, habits carrying her politeness even to here.

She stretched dramatically, trying to move in any way that allowed her to rid herself of the pains in her joints or the intense hollow feeling in her belly.

Glancing downwards, the woman noted that the tiny forms of her marines lay strewn about and sleeping, save for one, who bore his rifle stoically up and down the concrete floor of the structure. Stopping only when he noticed the warship was awake to deliver a crisp right face and textbook salute, which almost would have been inspiring were it not for the high pitched squeak of a report he gave.

"Any luck on finding anything useful in this place?" The woman asked nervously, "empty boilers mean we're stranded until we find something."

The figure delivered a squeak in the negative.

The woman sighed, "I expected as much," she smiled slightly, gazing at the faint light of the tunnel entrance, "at least when the Japs get here we've got a few rounds left. God willing we can go down fighting at least."

The marine gave an excited squeak

"I suppose it is a better end." The warship muttered with a bittersweet grin.

=xXx=

The rock splashed down, echoing from deep within the cave as a loud roar. Ardent, brushed her Auburn hair aside and picked up another rock near her seating place at the edge of the cave. Experimentally she hefted it slightly, judging the weight before being satisfied and giving it an overhead heave straight into the dark maw of the sub pen, this time echoing loudly with the sound of rocks hitting rocks. She grinned slightly before checking the rubble around her for more rocks.

"We think this may be a bad idea," Zubian murmured, kneading her cap nervously as she eyed the entrance to the cavern.

Ardent grunted in an unladylike fashion as she judged the weight of a particularly hefty chunk of rusty rebar with a bit of old concrete at the end.

"You're going to make her mad." Zubian muttered nervously, nervously holding her cap by the name on it and glancing about for support, but finding none, their Japanese counterparts elsewhere on patrol.

Ardent measured up another piece of rubble in her hand before turning to Zubian with a weary glare, "mate, we've been here here better part of three days waiting for the Yanks to sort their shit, I'm entitled to a bit of fun."

"But what if she comes out and tries to hurt us." Zubian muttered weakly, eyeing the distant forms of the two Japanese destroyers for support, despite their considerable distance preventing them from hearing or interjecting.

"Different brand of fun," Ardent replied with a shrug.

"What about Atlanta?" Zubian desperately called out, "we know she already doesn't like you, she'll probably try and get you punished, she's probably coming soon."

"Probably." Zubian muttered, throwing her rock, "but she just mentioned delays on the radio, besides what are they going to do, put me halfway across the world from England with an antiquated and childish destroyer under my charge?"

"Oh," Zubian relented worriedly and with slight hurt.

Ardent reached down for another rock picking it up before stopping midway in her weighing process, suddenly curious. "Don't you know about Atlanta's delay already?"

"We don't do our radio much," Zubian laughed with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

Ardent raised an eyebrow with interest.

"It confuses us." The older destroyer explained, suddenly very interested in the writing on her hat. "We weren't built with in a time where that was well understood. Besides, it makes me think I have more voices is my head."

Ardent laughed lightly before thinking the sentence over and giving Zubian a concerned, wide eyed look. The younger ship dropped her rock with defeat, "okay, nevermind that then." She muttered quietly, now avoiding Zubian's gaze.

Zubian didn't seem to understand, but offered a friendly smile, relieved Ardent had seen her way.

Ardent took to staring at the mouth of the cave and trying to ignore Zubian's incessant cheer, made significantly harder by the circles the Tribal class began sailing in.

It was only after several short minutes and the beginning of the loud out of key humming of _Rule Britannia_ that Ardent felt it too much to ignore. Sighing audibly, She reached down onto the pile of rubble and took a large rock, testing its weight in her hands she glanced over her shoulder to the dark maw of the cave, then shook her head and gave a hard stare at the back of Zubian's head, pulling her rock holding arm back.

"Ardent!" A happy and familiar voice called out, causing the British vessel to drop her improvised missile in a flustered with a loud clattering.

"Hey Fran!" She returned, turning with slight apprehension that the American had noticed her attempted ambush. But Franks just offered a happy wave, which Ardent returned, standing up and biting her screws into the warm pacific waters she moved towards the task force, noting that Zubian was already doing an enthusiastic full armed wave.

Ardent eyed the crowd steadily slowing down as Franks embraced her, grinning happily.

"How's it going?" The American offered. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise," Ardent agreed, breaking the hug, "we've been waiting for days."

Franks laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head, "it's been an odd few days, Iowa went to jail, I'll tell you later."

Ardent laughed. "Sounds like a right good story."

Iowa joined the crowd shortly after, as her already overtaxed engines coasted her into the group next to Hailey, who eyed the two British ships with uncharacteristic suspicion and below the breath and slightly accented mutterings about imperialism.

Iowa's half formed question died underneath the startled squeals of Ushio being bear hugged by Zubian. Drawing a grin from the battleship as she eyed the flustered destroyer squealing underneath her enthusiastic British counterpart.

"Right." San Juan began, breaking the reunions, "Ardent, report, what do we have?"

Ardent blinked with surprise and glanced past her friend at the American light cruiser. She pointed simply to the entrance of the cave, "your girl's in there."

San Juan raised an accusing eyebrow.

"Right." Ardent relented, "she doesn't talk much and she's been trying her best to keep us out, she's been rather upset about the Japanese being here," she explained with a shrug, "that's all I know."

"Right," San Juan muttered, glancing into the cave, "where did the Japanese go?"

"Patrol. They decided it might be best to keep a distance to avoid provoking your little damsel in distress here." Ardent reconsidered briefly, putting a finger to her chin in thought. "actually, Fubuki decided and she outranks Akeboner."

"We thought it was Akebono." Zubian muttered on the aside.

"Well, we're here now, if you think you'll be able to sneak past that Abyssal we saw earlier, you all should be good to head back, we'll take it from here." she glanced down to the one present Japanese destroyer, "you should probably take Ushio with you. If she wants to go."

"Right than. Nothing bigger than me ever gave me a hard time," the British destroyer saluted, eliciting a scowl from Franks, unnoticed by the British destroyer turn towards Ushio and Zubian's hug based struggle, "we're off. Come on Ooh-shoes, Zubian, let's Fubuki and get back home."

"And Akeboner!" Zubian added cheerfully, finally releasing the Japanese destroyer, who let herself go with an embarrassed grin.

"Especially Akebonoer." Ardent laughed as she set her course and took off at a leisurely pace.

Iowa shook her head as the three girls headed off, returning Zubian's enthusiastic wave and Ushio's nervous but happy one, before returning to San Juan, who had apparently put herself in "business mode" again.

"What's the plan?" Haggard asked, mirroring Iowa's own thoughts.

San Juan ignored her, churning her screws in the water and setting her rudder on an inbound course to the cavern entrance, pausing just outside, the other Americans curiously congregating behind her.

San Juan hesitated, offering a sheepish and unsure grin to the assembled Shipgirls before turning back to the rubble strewn passage.

"Uh-hello?" She called, the echoes of her own voice being the sole response to a damning silence. Giving obvious consideration to her words following the long awaited but not forthcoming response she called out again, "This is the Atlanta Class light cruiser USS San Juan, CL fifty four. Are you still there?"

"Just leave me alone!" The voice mewed pathetically, the tone carried by the cavernous walls.

San Juan frowned slightly, "This is USS North Dakota rifht? We're here to take you home. To the US, a lot of ships from the war have come back. You probably have some friends waiting for you."

"I don't want to go home." the voice quietly called out again, "I'll just stay here."

San Juan cursed under her breath, mulling her options over, "But don't you miss the United States?"

The voice was silent again. San Juan sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand through her hair and turned herself back towards the group with a frustrated shrug.

"Aren't you at least hungry? We have food. If nothing else you need that." San Juan mentioned, frustrated at her lack of results. The damning silence that followed again led her to cross her arms in frustration. "For fuck's sake, I'm an Anti-Air cruiser not a psychiatrist" she complained to the girls behind her, gesturing towards the cavern in exaspiration, "If anyone else wants to give this a shot feel free."

Iowa shifted herself to the front of the group, pushing past an irate Haggard and a frustrated San Jua. "Excuse me? Miss North Carolina?" She called. "My name is Iowa, I'm a battleship too. We-" she began.

"Liar!" The voice cut off loudly, echoing through the cavern before several seconds of confused and stressed silence overtook those outside the cave, "you can't be Iowa…" the woman in the sub pen continued, her voice breaking slightly, "Iowa is gone." she muttered, carried only by the echoes, "they're all gone. You killed them."

"What the shit Iowa?" Haggard called suddenly to the stunned battleship.

Iowa sighed, "I'm still here." Iowa responded, ignoring the teasing deatroyer, "I may not be the Iowa you know, but I'd still like to talk if you're willing to listen."

"Just leave me alone!" The woman muttered again, her voice choking up, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Look, I'll promise you that we won't force you to return, can we just talk?" Iowa asked, noting that her promise had put a scowel on San Juan's face.

Iowa shot a dirty look towards the light cruiser but said nothing. and stared towards the cave entrance. "Hey, uh, North Dakota?"

As the battleship expected, there was no response, even the light crying had stopped.

Iowa turned her course towards the cave entrance, building steam and increasing speed to a slow but steady pace towards the gaping hole. The twisted rebar and broken concrete forming an imposing hole that swallowed the slow moving battleship up.

Inside was illuminated near only by the light from the entrance, and the battleship found herself slowing her pace and examining her path more clearly, as she meandered her way through the maze, eyeing the path up ahead, she pressed forward, activating her searchlight as she reached the clearing.

The main chamber was large, as expected of a chamber expected to hold a submarine. Iowa swept her light across the room, the once impressive maintenance hall was now cracked root strewn concrete, twisted metal, rusted steel, and faded kanji.

"I-Iowa?" A quiet voice asked, interrupting Iowa's revere and causing the battleship to snap her light to the corner.

Sitting there, a tattered, looking woman shielded her eyes from the searchlight. A tattered looking woman, whose unkempt hair, muck covered glasses, and tattered salt stained clothes did little to hide the strength of a Battleship, even without the battery of thirteen and eight inch cannons pointed threateningly at the entrance way.

Though the expression of confused awe on the face, gave Iowa pause as she tried to recognize the figure, lowering her light, to avoid blinding the woman and trying to focus more on her face, examining the figure closely in an attempt to break past the grime.

"It can't be you! They killed you." she spoke in a low voice, with a mixture of disbelief and desparation. "They took you out and they killed you. Just like the others."

"I came back." Iowa answered with a shrug, "I don't understand either, but I did." Iowa set her props into motion again, bringing herself closer to the newcomer.

"Stay back!" The woman shrieked, frantic tears forming in her eyes, "I don't know what you are!"

"It's okay," Iowa answered hands held up in reassurance as recognition coming at last. The battleship rubbing her eyes past her joyful smile, "it's me, your sister."

The figure mewed slight protests of confusion and terror. Pulling herself further into the corner, though not turning her guns to bear at the interloper, her circle of faeries dispersing slightly in confusion krag-jorgensen ridles brandished.

"We fought in Cuba together, remember, big sis Indiana was there too!" Iowa explained, drawing closer, "We did so well together, you were the first one in."

The figure in the corner buried her head between her legs and begin making choking muttering sobs into her legs. Iowa managed to hear a pitiful protest, "it can't be." among the tears

"Please" Iowa controlled, Finally reaching the stairs, "don't be scared. It's me, I promise. I know how much you loved Hong Kong and the rest of China. You never stopped talking about it back in San Fran."

Iowa reached the top of the stairs, thought the woman appeared not to notice, pushing herself ever further into the corner through the frantic tears.

The approaching warship brought herself down behind the pitifully frightened figure, drawing her arms around it and pulling it into a deep hug, eliciting a surprised and frightened gasp.

"Please, Oregon, it's me, Iowa, it's your sister. I'm here for you." Iowa consoled into the back of the saltwater email encrusted figure, drawing her into a deeper hug, "I'm not leaving. I'm here."

Though the tears didn't stop, Iowa knew the ship well enough to know that the shaking and sobbing was brought now by relief instead of worried fear.

It was then Iowa cried too.


	27. Chapter 27: Sisterly Care

Iowa lost track of time, holding onto the quivering figure underneath her and offering soft reassurances until eventually Oregon began to shift beneath her, slowly and unsteadily, prompting Iowa to relearn her battered sister and sit back, allowing her sister to turn around, her dirty salt and tear stained face still full of disbelief, but with an undertone of relief.

"It is you." Oregon muttered slightly as if to reassure herself.

Iowa laughed, "it is." She answered, wiping a tear away.

"But. How?"

Iowa shrugged, looking for words, "no one seems to know."

Oregon pondered this, nervously fidgeting, "are the others-." She quietly asked, a spark of hope appearing in her eyes.

Iowa shook her head, slowly, avoiding the disappointed look in her sister's gaze. "No. I was the first to come back and, to be honest I had thought I might be the only one who would return." She placed her hands atop her sister's. "But if you've come back, it's only a matter of time before the others do!" Iowa declared, grinning brightly.

Oregon nodded, still clearly let down by the news, pulling her knees against her chest.

"Hey I can't be all that bad of company." Iowa teased "and once big sis Indy gets back it'll be just like the old times. Except with less Spanish to pick on."

Iowa swore that her sister's mouth twinged slightly upwards at the comment. "Come one sis," she declared, standing up and brushing off her skirt in a childlike manner, before offering her hand out the still seated Oregon. "Let's go home."

"Home?" Oregon asked, with hesitation in her voice.

"You're right near your old prowling ground in the Asiatic Fleet." Iowa explained, "there's a US Navy post in Japan that's got some cozy beds and great food waiting for you, and let me tell you-"

"No!" Oregon yelled, pushing herself further into the corner, shaking slightly.

Iowa was taken aback, setting her hand down from it's proferred position as the reaction echoed in her ears. offering a sad smile of realization, she crouched low to her sister's level. "I know there was a war with the Japanese, though I dont know the details or what happened to you there, but it's over. We won, the Japanese are our allies again and are wonderful people, you'll probably make some great friends with them."

Oregon shook her head sadly before offering a resigned, "I know."

Iowa did little to hide her surprise and unease at the older Battleship's response.

"They were talking to the limey's and now the limey's were talking to you." Oregon muttered quietly, "I know that means the war is over."

"Then why?" Was all Iowa could mumble.

Her older sister hestiated, looking in the dark waters to avoid Iowa's gaze. "I can't loose you again", Oregon choked out in a tone made it clear she was on the cusp of breaking down again. "Not a second time."

"I'm here Oregon, I'm not going anywhere." Iowa reassured.

"That's what you said last time," Oregon stated, attempting to recover her composure, "and then they took you away." She choked down again failing in her efforts as tears flowed freely, "they took you away, they took Indiana away, they took Texas away. By the end, everyone was gone."

Iowa sat herself down next to her sister again, placing an arm gingerly over her shoulder, pulling her close.

"They made into a museum and it felt like every day another one of my sisters and friends were towed down to the scrap yard or sunk as a target." She muttered, shaking slightly, "and- and then they came for me. They told me I was important, that I was safe and would be 'preserved'. But in the end they came for me anyways. I was so scared Iowa. I'm sorry."

Iowa reassuringly rubbed her sister's far shoulder, "It's okay, sis. I was scared too, like you wouldn't believe. But it's over now. I'm back, you're back. The others will come back too. The Navy needs us, we're important again, we're here to stay."

"But what happens when _they_ come back." Oregon choked, "what happens when the dreadnaughts come back and it all happens again."

Iowa paused. A nervous lump of doubt forming in her own throat, glancing over at her sister's distraught and tear stained face, she sighed, abandoning her unease and hugging her sister closer she offered a disarming smile, "we'll have to do it right this time and make ourselves useful. I've got a modernization plan in the works for me that should help, I bet you can have one too!"

Oregon appeared unconvinced, staring nervously at the faint light coming from the cavern entrance. "But then they'll be modernized too." She protested weakly.

"You know, I've read up on it." Iowa began, "the same thing happened to them after the war. They were no longer the best ships available and were bombed, scrapped, and abandoned the same as us, I bet when the first of them comes back she'll be just as scared and overwhelmed as I was."

Oregon said nothing, gazing towards the entranceway in thought.

"This time around we're all a bunch of previously outdated ships with a new lease on life." Iowa suggested "If we treat them right, I bet we can be great friends. No one is getting scrapped or used as a target. I promise."

Noticing her sister's contemplation Iowa broke the silence again, "We won't have any success, sitting here and waiting until we burn through all our coal and rust away," she offered, through her reassuring smile. "If nothing else let's go get some food and rest for you and we'll talk things through after a warm bath, okay?" Iowa offered, giving her sister a reassuring squeeze.

After several long seconds of silence, Oregon offered a weak nod.

"Have you eaten anything since you got back?" Iowa asked sympathetically, standing again and brushing herself off.

Oregon, shook her head, "I couldn't find anything." she muttered quietly.

Iowa offered a hand again, this time, after several long seconds, her sister took it, allowing Iowa to hoist the battleship into a standing position, albeit briefly, Oregon began to collapse before the stronger battleship caught her with a surprised gasp, placing a steadying hand on her sister's shoulder.

"My coal bunkers have not been resupplied," Oregon muttered with a twinge of embarrassment.

Iowa laughed, "that's okay, I can bring you in and get you something to eat. Because let me tell you. Food is great."

Oregon's nervous look faded slightly as her sister carried her uneasily down the concrete stairs. Her eyes averting from the overwhelming light that Iowa steadily brought her closer to.

"I think you'll like Pancakes, they're sweeter than I expected. Also I understand pie now. It's also great," Iowa excitedly chattered, finally talking to her sister without the burden of deliberately attempting to calm her, "coke is also sweet, did you know that?" She asked, adjusting her hold on her sister up with a smile, "because I always expected it to be a coffee or something, which is not sweet by the way."

Oregon finally smiled skightly as they reached the cave entranceway. Iowa's excited chatter and relaxed attitude calming her better than any other assurances could.


	28. Chapter 28: New Face!

The older battleship let out a pained grunt as the pair stepped into the light, past the cavern entrance she had called home for so long. "Come on Ori, just a few steps closer." Iowa reassured, struggling harder to pick through the rocks while carrying an armored warship. "Then we can get the others and start on our way back."

Oregon nodded quietly, the gesture obscured by her ducking down to avoid a spiral of rebar jutting angrily from the wall.

As they reached the end, the cave opened up, bright light pouring in fully on the pair, causing Oregon to shield her eyes as Iowa slowed to a stop in the waters outside the maw, taking a victorious breath of clearer salty ocean air, Iowa stole a glance at her sister, she felt some pride at the look of relief on her face as well.

"Oh hey, San Juan!" The familiar voice of Haggard called from the pair's right flank, "Iowa's not dead. Looks like she's got a thing. I don't think it's dead either."

"Hey Haggard." Iowa deadpanned, "good to see you too."

"That's Haggard, she's a little shit." Iowa explained aside, attempting to disarm the angry look growing on Oregon's face following the destroyer's casual outburst, "she doesn't mean anything by what she says."

Behind Haggard, the rest of the troop steamed up, looking significantly more supportive than the destroyer. Leading the group, Franks offered an excited wave, which Iowa returned with a bright smile, her hands currently occupied.

San Juan accelerated, taking lead over the other escorts and coasting to a well timed stop in front of the two Battleships, "Iowa.," She nodded, addressing the younger of the two, "good to see you in one piece." Turning to the elder, she offered a her hand. "CL fifty four, USS San Juan."

Oregon glanced at the hand offered, her expression blank. Grabbing it she shook lightly and answered plainly, "Battleship number three, Oregon."

If San Juan was slighted by the disinterest of the battleship, she didn't show it, instead turning to the destroyers behind her pointing to each as she names them, "Haggard, Franks, and Hailey, they're our posts anti-submarine and Anti-Air specialists."

Oregon gave a light nod in response to the various waves and expressions exchanged by the destroyers.

"So you two know each other?" San Juan asked idley. Pulling her headset and Morse code set from the depths of her rigging.

Iowa laughed, "she's my older sister."

"Well that's a pretty definitive 'yes'," the light cruiser relented, hammering the set, "I know me and 'lanta go back a ways."

Iowa grinned, ready to regail her escorts with stories of the Spanish American war when Hailey interrupted with a confused tone. "Wait. Time out." The destroyer called, impersonating a referee's hand gesture for the call, "I thought you were an 'Iowa class', how does a nameship have a sister?"

"My class was an improvement, over hers," Iowa answered, giving the battleship she was supporting a teasing look, "She, Massachusetts, and Indiana still have quite a few similarities in design with me. I guess that's make us half sisters? Maybe three quarters." She relented, shrugging as best she can with Oregon still over her shoulder.

"Right, sorry to interrupt," San Juan interjected, offering a sympathetic glance over to the Battleship currently being carried. "But we're probably about due to head out." The light cruiser tossed her headset back into the inexplicably large storage space in her rigging. "Also, Iowa, be sure to remind me to explain to you why 'three quarters sister' isn't an expression."

Iowa just offered another half shrug from under Oregon and a sheepish look.

"Right. Same cruising formation," San Juan announced, taking head of the formation, I need active scanning of surface, air, and subsurface, if anything so much a reaches out and touches the Battleships, I'm picking it up and beating you with it, until I'm positive you remember what an escort is supposed to do."

The destroyers, encouraged by her enthusiasm offered a chorus of affirmatives, splitting into their protective spots around Iowa and her sister.

"Come on sis, it's just a short ways."

Oregon nodded, her eyelids growing heavy as she felt safe for the first time in days, her body demanding rest as the stress and interrupted sleep from her ordeal came flooding back to her.

=XxX=

She returned to consciousness in a haze, not the cold aching haze of stolen sleep, but the gradual relaxing waking that comes from a warm bed, comfortable sheets, and a pleasant cool breeze flowing in from the window next to her.

The battleship rolled over, pulling her blankets over herself as her dreamlike state was interrupted by a weak biting in her stomach, her hull complaining angrily over the supply shortages that she had put in the back of her mind. The angry squeaking debate between her quartermaster and bridge crew that she'd been ignoring for the past few days did little to help her return to peace.

She sighed audibly, interrupting the frantic squeaks that were fiercely arguing amongst each other and sat up, analyzing the room she found herself in.

It was plain in appearance, a small dormitory, though spacious enough to hold the limited possessions of her companion and more. Though aside from the hastily folded uniforms of her sister and a large American flag bearing a few too many stars for her liking the room seemed strangely sterile. The only real item of interest was currently resting upon the side table next to her bed. On the table a large plate resided, stacked high with a great mountain of pancakes and, resplendent with a side of bacon glistened beautifully in the morning sun.

She reached out, eyes hungrily devouring the delicious stack before settling again on the piece of paper tucked underneath the plate. Wearily glancing between the pancakes and the note she sighed again and decided to take what she seemed as a more proper approach, grabbing the note, she scanned the text, learning something she never would have known about her sister in her steel form, namingly the terrible handwriting Oregon struggled to work out.

 _Oregon!_

 _If you're reading this, I managed to miss you, but don't fear, I'll be back soon! I left you a little pick me up to get your day started! Don't worry, there's always more in the mess hall, the signs should lead there!_

 _-Iowa_

Oregon eyed the plate dubiously, reading over the part about needing more food over again as she took in the volume of the pancakes. Finally the questions were abandoned as a painful growl from her stomach harassed the battleship's thoughts. Hoisting herself up, she decided such ponderings were better left until after she had the coal to move again.

Stepping out of the room, the battleship was still unsteady on her feet, bobbing and weaving her way down the halls, one hand held tentatively up to her flank to stop herself should she fall, several sailors had already approached to offer help and were rebuked with angry glares as the battleship made her way down the hallway.

"Um-he-hello?" A soft voice called out from behind the battleship. The woman's irate expression causing it to follow with a nervous squeal.

"I'm fine." Oregon stated matter of factly, placing greater effort into her walking and managing somehow to stumble a little bit more instead.

From behind her, Franks gathered her courage and pushed out, speeding up to trail behind the battleship's flank. "It's just-uh." She began nervously, "Miss Iowa wanted me to make sure you were okay."

Oregon stopped, glancing back towards the destroyer again, her expression near neutral save the slightest hint of amusement in the form of an upward tic on the edges of her mouth "That seems like something she'd do." She admitted with a sigh. "I was looking for the mess hall."

The girl seemed to brighten at Oregon relenting, nodding happily, "you're actually going the wrong way!" She declares, pointing down the hallway in the opposite direction and offering a hand to the battleship, "come on!"

Oregon hesitated slightly before accepting, taking Franks's hand and allowing herself to be led down the hallway, by the bubbly destroyer.

"So, Iowa is your younger sister?" Franks asked, pulling the battleship along down the tiled hallways and through various groups of sailors and Shipgirls.

"Younger." Oregon replied tersely, noting privately that conversation with a new ship was not coming naturally to her, "Indiana class, youngest of four."

Franks nodded, "I'm the oldest of my close service sisters here, but I'm a bit of a middle child as most Fletchers are." She shrugged, "I've got a lot of sisters."

Oregon interrupted her stern and withering gaze on a sailor that nearly bumped into the pair to offer a curious expression to the destroyer, "how many?"

"One hundred and seventy four." She replied matter of factly, drawing a surprised look from the battleship. Haggard laughed in response, "I like to think it means we're well liked and it's always nice to be able to go to a new post and have all the destroyers be your friends already, at least for the most part."

Oregon said nothing her thoughts interrupted and she chose instead to study the matter of fact government issued sign bearing the word "cafeteria", on it. Franks gave the larger ship a slightly nervous look at being ignored but continued to lead on.

The smell that greeting the pair upon pushing the door open caused the battleship to salivate in a most unladylike manner, noticing only in the back of her mind that the destroyer had dropped her hand and was gesturing to the food."

"Its-um self serve. A lot better than what we used to have in our canteens, though according to the Navy guys we get nicer food than them, so maybe chow hasn't changed that much."

Oregon nodded, needing little instruction to grab a waiting tray and pile it high with mountains of bacon, eggs, and toast, privately she wondered if the amount of food was excessive but the small squeaking voice of her quartermaster had continued to scream at her for resupply even after the pancakes and had she bothered listening to it while she continued to pile food now, she would have noticed that it continued to scream that she was still not taking enough.

Slamming a heavy chunk of ham onto her tray, Oregon did an about face, scanning the crowd of the room for any familiar faces. But the few assembled Shipgirls, save for the pair of destroyers in the corner were all unfamiliar, giving either polite smiles at her expression or stealing glances at the new face when they assumed she wasn't looking. Her expression doured slightly when she realized her sister was not in the cafeteria and chose to answer the nervous waves of Franks, sitting down next to her and her sister with the heavy thud of her tray.

Hailey glanced wide eyed at the tray as if startled by the noise, "I'll never get used to battleships." She muttered to herself.

Franks gave a shy laugh, "Oregon, this is my sister Hailey," she announced, gesturing towards the ship that indeed bore a sisterly resemblance, "you met earlier but um- I don't think it was a good time for introductions."

Oregon swallowed a mouth full of eggs and toast, giving a polite, "USS Oregon, a pleasure." Before stealing another mouthful.

"Holding up well?" Hailey asked politely.

"Managing." Oregon muttered, "in truth, I was hoping to see my sister some more, do you know where she is?"

Hailey gave a glance around the room as if to avoid prying ears. "Well, you didn't hear this from us," she muttered, clearly excited to have gossip to spread. "But the rumor mill says you're getting put In a new squadron together with some other ships."

Oregon smiled a joyful half smile, "are they other early battleship's?" she asked, hopefully.

Hailey shrugged, "if they are the rumor mill has said nothing on America getting new battleships and we're destroyers, we've got the best source of news out there."

"Yeah!" Franks agreed, "don't listen to the submarines, all they do is gossip! We're nearly always right."

"Most of the time." Hailey corrected, "not quite all."

"Over half!" Franks defended.

"Eh, at least over a quarter," her sister teased.

Oregon laughed quietly to herself and grabbed another fork load of eggs.

"We'll keep an ear out though!" Hailey promised, "we weren't the best picket ships in the war 'cause we sat around and did nothing," she bragged through a mouthful of breakfast.

Oregon smiled slightly with appreciation, but said nothing, drawing a lengthy silence that the battleship seemed unconcerned by, but while it drew on it began to noticeably aggravate the more excitable escorts.

"So we can show you around when you're done." Hailey interjected with a smile,

Franks nodded, "there's a lot of fun stuff here, the made some neat inventions since the war ended, like video games."

"Which you're terrible at," Hailey teased.

"Only because you cheated." Franks glared, pointing an accusatory forkful of fruit at her sister.

Hailey shrugged coily, offering her sister no further response, instead turning to address the battleship. "it might be fun to poke around a bit and see the base. 'sides, when she's done with whatever she's doing I bet Iowa will want to take you to the commander to talk about jobs. It's no big deal, the commander just likes to discuss how you fit into this Navy, but it sounds like she's already got something figured out."

Oregon froze, the fork still in the air between her mouth and the plate, her expression deepening intensely.

Hailey's smile began to wane slightly and she noticed her sister fidget uncomfortably at the change of tone from the previously content battleship.

"Actually." Oregon began with seriousness, "I'd like to talk to the commander without Iowa, I'd appreciate if you could take me there."


	29. Chapter 29: Feelings of Dread

Iowa's heels clicked together as she offered a crisp salute to the seated woman,a resounding "ma'am" echoing throughout the room from the contagious grin on her smiling face.

Looking up from her paperwork, Commander Andrews offered a tired smile in return. "I can see you're in a good mood." She mused before offering a dismissing hand to the greeting, "I'd tell you you didn't need to salute, but honestly i think at this point all of you girls just salute based on whether you want to or not at the moment."

Iowa's smile took on a sheepish look and she offered a noncommittal shrug. "Sometimes it feels right."

"Still, I'm glad you have your sister back, I'd certainly like to meet her when she up." Admiral announced, "shuffling a stack of papers, what little we've been able to report on her is already causing quite a stir."

"I'm not sure I follow your logic," Iowa muttered, her grin fading, "is there an issue with having more ships and I and anyone who knew her can vouch for her determination and fighting spirit."

The Commander sighed, drawing her pen to her mouth in consideration, "not an issue as a problem. But her return means that the Admiralty can no longer ignore your potential contribution to the war effort. After all, it's easy to justify keeping a single ship out of the fight when doctrine doesn't fit, it's harder to stow away a fleet." Noticing Iowa was still standing, the woman gestured towards a chair, "take a seat if you'd like."

Iowa shook her head as she claimed the proffered chair, " but we're just the two of us, we're not a fleet and if we're half as outdated as my limited experience suggests there's not much room for us in this war."

"that has been the center of some debate." The Commander confirmed, opening a manilla folder and flipping through several documents with a thoughtful expression "it has been for quite some time now actually, in several circles."

Iowa raised an eyebrow, a bemused expression on her face.

"We may have a position in a squadron for you." She segwayed, flipping through more papers in her envelope before finally selecting a single group of pages. "both you and your sister are without doubt the-" Commander Andrews hesitated, a briefly embarrassed look flashing over her face while she searched for more diplomatic word choice, "-the ships furthest along in timeframe to appear. However you're certainly not the only ones who find themselves out of place".

Iowa let out a healthy and genuine laugh, as some of the tension dropped and her good spirit returned, "that's the nicest way I've ever been told 'you're extremely old'." She replied after the laughter waned and her smile faded to a more relaxed expression. "But why do I feel you're trying to butter me up for bad news."

The commander shuffled the stack of papers as she pondered a response. "I would be lying if I said there were no likely challenges with this assignment, however I _would_ be lying if I said it's something I think you can't handle, I can't force you to take the assignment, but I genuinely think it's in your best interest."

The warship's mood darkened, "I'm being transferred from Oregon aren't I." Iowa asked suddenly, drawing a surprised look from the human officer.

"No, I wouldn't ask you to leave her so shortly after she arrived." Andrews assuaged, "in fact neither of you are being transferred. We've taken an inspiration from the old British Monitors, essentially floating gun platforms."

Iowa adjusted herself into a more relaxed position and leaned back in the chair "I'm familiar with the concept."

"The Japanese and allied navies are a bit torn between close to port shipping and harbor defence and further offensive or defensive operations." Andrews explained, "Simply put, we'd like to get some shorter range, lower firepower ships, operating under our air net and keeping the shores safe, while further range ships handle further range operations."

"After all the hard time we gave Maine and her sisters about port defense." Iowa muttered, with a slight grin on her face. "Still, it seems sound enough for the pair of us if we've got air and picket support." She thought only briefly before she gave a curt nod. "I'm in."

The commander gave a glance down to the paperwork in her hand, causing Iowa's grin to fade slightly. "So back to those challenged you mentioned." She began, "why do I get the feeling they're bigger than you made them out to be?"

xXx

She leaned her head against the aircraft's window, staring into the cloud cover below with impassive expression.

"Excusez-moi Mon amie?" a voice called, barely registering through her self-reflection.

She made no reply, continuing to stare while deep in thoughts all her own.

"Désolé, j'ai un question." The voice asked again.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat and shutting her eyes, doing her best to hide her feelings behind English impassiveness, it felt appropriate, even if no one was watching.

"Est-ce que vous êtes bien?" The voice asked again, breaking through finally as the woman realized she was in fact being watched. She spun around, quicker than she would have like and betraying her surprise at the voice's sudden interruption.

The voice, however broke its expression of friendly concern far more dramatically and let out an undignified squeak of fright at the sudden movement. The friendly faced French Woman behind it that had so delicately attempted to interrupt the muser's thoughts was clearly caught off guard, her bright eyes went going wide with shock.

The French Woman's surprise turned to embarrassment as her face reddened at the outburst. "Desole. Vous effarouchaient-moi" she admitted quietly, twirling her short Auburn hair in embarrassment.

The seated woman gave the newcomer a confused look.

"J'avais faim, je n'avais pas le temps manger avant le voyage", the French Woman admitted, pointing in the general direction of her counterpart, "Vous avez finir votre sandwich?".

"I'm sorry, my French is a bit rusty, haven't had a chance to use it since the war." The British woman admitted in a polite accent, "could you say it a bit slower?" she brought her hand to her chin in thought, trying to piece the sentence over in French.

The interloper however interrupted her again, her face breaking out into childish delight, "oh you are English!" She excitedly proclaimed, "so sorry! I could not tell beneath your blanket."

"What were you asking me?" the English Woman intoned through a very English smile of polite annoyance, though the French Woman seemed completely unphased or just ignorant of the 'annoyance' half of her expression

"I um-" the French Woman began, expression of embarrassment returning. That she still had her hand held up allowed the English Woman the opportunity to trace a path between a French index finger and a sandwich seated neatly upon her own tray table in front of her presumably by the stewardess. A growl from the standee's stomach affirmed the request.

"Be my guest," the English Woman politely affirmed, regretting the decision as soon as her bubbly compatriot decided to use the offer to take the seat next to her, despite the near total vacancy of the rest of the airline.

"Thank you so much!" The newcomer announced in a light and mirthful French accent, reaching over to pluck the meal from the extended tray table. "I slept too late and skipped breakfast."

The English Woman made no comment, instead returning to her important business of leaning her head on the window and staring at clouds, allowing her to return to her thoughts but building a silence that caused her companion to shuffle the sandwich uncomfortably as the pause lengthened.

The French Woman peered around the English Woman's head to get a view through the window. "Do you like the view?" She asked curiously, taking another bite of the borrowed meal.

The English Woman sighed and laid back in her seat. "It's moderately better than the view of the seat in front of me." She grumbled, avoiding the French Woman's gaze in hopes of returning to her solitude.

"I think it's wonderful!" The newcomer replied, holding her sandwich to her chest and staring into the clouds with a wistful expression "Flying is a beautiful thing, no? Though it is more enjoyable when one can feel the wind on their hair and has the controls underfoot."

She sighed, placing one hand under her chin as she continued to stare.

"I can't say I can relate, Battleships don't have many flight hours." The English Woman proclaimed, laying back into her chair and closing her eyes as if to sleep and thus signal and end to the conversation.

"Oh, but just because you are a battleship does not mean you cannot fly," she laughed lightly "I am no more or less,-" she paused, mulling over her grammar, "is the word aerodynamic?" She questioned, before giving herself an affirming nod.

The battleship said nothing, instead choosing to feign sleep. Her French companion shifted nervously as the pause deepend again, "So what brings you to Japan?" The French Woman asked suddenly brightening up after the question. "Are you be reassigned? Maybe we are in the same division!" her light but unmistakably French accent rising in excitement at the prospect.

The battleship shot up in alarm, startling the Frenchwoman again, though with less dramatic results, "bloody hell." The English Woman muttered under her breath, thinking her orders over, before letting out a relieved sigh. "I'm afraid my station is with a pair of yank battleship's, no aircraft carrier was mentioned." she announced with false regret.

The carrier, instead of being rebuffed, grew excited again in expression. "I had similar orders!" She decried in an energetic tone, "I am looking forward to serving together."

Hope stolen, the Battleship laid back again pulling the airline supplied blanket up over her again, "it should be splendid," she uttered, dry tone empty of the building frustration, "however I should like to rest before we land, apologies Miss-"

"Béarn," the carrier responded, in light French, "and the apologies are mine, I did not mean to disturb your rest. I had some marines accompanying me who found some British compatriots to chat and play cards with, I chatted with them for some time but all of them were very insistent that you were lonely and needed someone to chat with." her brow furrowed in deep thought, "I think now they were deceiving me."

The battleship sighed, silently offering dark curses in the directions of her security detachment. "It's quite alright, no harm." she mused, adjusting the blanket.

"Uh-before you sleep, I am embarrassed, but I don't know your name." Béarn muttered.

"It's quite alright, I didn't offer. Dreadnought, HMS Dreadnought to be exact." the battleship replied, before laying back to sleep.


	30. Chapter 30: Stiff Upper Lip

"Um Miss Oregon?" Franks began, nervously fidgeting her hands together from behind the sightlines of the battleship.

Oregon gave a half look over her shoulder, shooting. a glance at the destroyer, trusting the younger of her pair of escorts to continue guiding her to the Commander's office as she continued her steady and determined plod forward.

Franks flinched, wilting beneath the focused and angry gaze of a battleship on a mission.

"N-nothing," Franks stammered out hastily waving her hands disarmingly, "I mean- nevermind. sorry I-". Franks' eye was caught by a sudden movement ahead of the battleship, her sister, locking eyes on her and showing the same desperate uncertainty that Franks herself felt.

As Oregon turned again and continued her determined pace, Franks took the opportunity and with a nervous swallow raised her hand slightly as if to get the attention of the battleship. "Actually-" she began, stopping in her tracks with a sudden sense of determination.

"Miss Oregon, you're really scary." Franks called put with sudden energy, balling her fists in the effort.

Oregon stopped in her tracks, turning slight to confront the destroyer, her expression one of sympathetic concern and confusion. "I am?" She asked, cocking her head slightly and adding to the look.

A gaze from Hailey from behind Oregon offered an even more bewildered expression, though mostly at Franks's sudden courage rather than the statement itself.

Franks shrunk once again and avoided the battleship's expression, "not normally-" she stammered. "I mean before you were like Iowa, nice and friendly. but now you seem intense and demanding you see the commander." The Destroyer sucked in a determined breath and a pair of sextuple torpedo tubes angled themselves out from her hips towards the battleship. "I can't let you hurt the commander!" The destroyer managed to out through her trembling lower lip.

Hailey's confusion continued momentarily until she elected to follow her sister's lead, adopting a determined expression and angling her armaments towards Oregon, trapping the larger ship in the hallway between the pair of them.

Oregon took a placating stance, hands raised defensively against the pair of escorts, "I'm just going to talk." She declared.

Franks did nothing to change the angle of her torpedoes, her expression forward, at Oregon's midsection, desperately using the lack of eye contact to keep her composure, she felt a slight tremble in her shoulders develop, feeling the gaze of the larger warship shift between her and her sister.

Switching her steely gaze between two escorts Oregon's defensive and placating demeanor melted in a pair of narrowed eyes when neither destroyer decided to budge. Glancing between the two of them, Oregon found her opening, grabbing Hailey by the shoulder and using her superior tonnage and angry look to passively push the destroyer to the side.

"I can find my own way." She declared coldly, continuing her path down the hall.

Hailey stood stunned, watching as Oregon departed with heavy footsteps echoing down the tile hallway before the destroyer spared a wide eyed gaze at her sister.

The look shook Franks out of her similar revere. "Miss Oregon!" she called with a resurgence of determination to the retreating figure.

Oregon spared no response, not even a second glance over the shoulder.

Franks shuddered shut her eyes and relayed a set of mental orders to her crew. The faeries took to action quickly, scarcely ten seconds passed since her call before five mk. 14 torpedoes shot from their tubes with sequential hisses of rushing gas.

-And proceeded to land against the tile floor with echoing reverberations of steel on ceramic before harmlessly rolling to and fro with their propellers spinning uselessly in the air.

Oregon stopped and took a quick second to gauge the sounds origin before glancing back at the pair of destroyers, her eyes growing wide with alarm at the set of ordnance rolling between the ships. "Did you just try to torpedo me?" she asked after several seconds of bewilderment.

The failure of her attack had a similar effect on the destroyer for the briefest of moments before panic set into Franks, a mind blanking terror that made her knees buckle, a horrified choking noise escaping her mouth. She braced for impact, starting at the ground as she ignored the battleship ahead of her.

A second series of clattering noises noises signaled the equally ineffectual barrage of Hailey's torpedoes as Franks's sister attempted to defend her.

Oregon stood for a second, watching the torpedos rolling harmlessly against the floor as the panic in both destroyers continued to deepen,

From her position on the floor, Franks did her best to ignore the imposing form and the incoming vibrations of the battleship approaching her position, stifling back her horror she braced herself for reprisal.

Hailey on the other hand still stood, though she took a few nervous steps backwards, stuttering incoherent apologies on the way.

As the form of Oregon stopped closer, Franks fought to repress the shudders, finally letting a terrified jump and squeak when she felt a heavy hand set up her head-

-and awkwardly ruffle her hair.

"I haven't seen such pointlessly stupid courage since those rusted Spanish cruisers challenged me and my sisters." The battleship muttered, "of course they were trapped, you're just dumb."

Franks whimpered slightly and looked up with teary eyes.

"I'm not going to murder your Commander." Oregon muttered, turning towards Hailey, "I really did just want to talk. Granted, yes, I intended to be pretty assertive in our talk."

"Oh." was all Hailey could manage from the sidelines.

Oregon sighed, taking a seat against the wall next to the confused and sniffling form of Franks. "You mentioned you had sisters and how important they are to you." She muttered turning to the confused destroyer. "I did too, I had so many goofy and wonderful siblings."

She cast a forlorn gaze against the wall. "I was the last to go really. though a few remained stripped and broken I was the last of us to be a true battleship. I just-." Oregon began, before taking on a bittersweet smirk. "I just was so happy to get Iowa back, when you mentioned new jobs for her I thought of her last assignment," Oregon muttered sadly, pulling her legs to her chest and leaning her head down on top of her knees in an effort to make herself into a safe ball.

"Last assignment?" Muttered Franks.

"When the Navy decided the older battleships weren't needed and started bringing in dreadnaughts, they decided they might as well get rid of all of us." Oregon's words came out dryly and with no emotional tone, anger and frustration tempered by sadness. "None of us survived. In Iowa's case they drug her broken and battered body out to shoot her full of holes as a target ship."

Frank's blanched and made a guilty look at the tiles.

Oregon "I should have asked earlier, but if you could, I'd like you to help me keep my sister safe."

"I'll help!" Hailey declared with sudden enthusiasm, "I'm sure commander doesn't want to replace Iowa, but if she does try and scrap her I'll hold her down so you can beat her up!"

Oregon laughed a bittersweet laugh and looked up from her position on the floor.

Frank's for her part stood up, her knees still shaking slightly but she offered her assent in a tear faced, but determined gaze, her steadfastness barely marred by a pitiful sniffle.

"Lead on then," Oregon insisted, offering Hailey friendly grin.


	31. Chapter 31: Crossroads

Stepping onto the tarmac of the post runway, Bearn barely seemed to note the wash and still steady noise of the propellers roaring behind her. She, and more perplexingly her trademark kepi, seemed utterly _unconcerned_ by the wind, skipping to a stop several meters from the aircraft and surveying the mostly empty airstrip with a cheery and optimistic smile.

"It is much more humid than I expected." She noted staring off at the small houses on the far end of the runway, "and the summers here are quite hot compared to the coast at France."

"So it seems." Dreadnought muttered, finding herself grabbing ahold of her cap to keep the propellers from throwing it off her head.

Bearn took a break from her distant fixation and did an abrupt about face, startling Dreadnought with the suddenness of the move and her blank expression, "where do we go now?" the carrier asked plainly, though still with a thick and unmistakable accent.

Dreadnought turned to give an expecting look towards the two groups of marines hat had filed out behind the two capital ships but was met with a cluster of disinterested smoke breaks and chatter, both groups continuing onwards in small cliques that fanned out to escape the noise and we're completely obvious to the Shipgirls they were assigned to. The battleship let out a sigh that was only barely audible beneath the continuous roar of the engine. "I'm not certain." Dreadnaught admitted with a twinge of frustration

"Do you think that little one knows?" The carrier asked, absentmindedly gesturing towards a series of sterile administration buildings with the words "United States Navy Warship Personnel Command" neatly emblazoned on the side of the doorway.

It took several seconds for dreadnaught to pick up exactly where Bearn was pointing, but standing next to the sign in rigid and blankfaced posture was a small woman that while easily mistakable to the untrained eye as a particularly young looking lower enlisted, bore the unmistakable silhouette of a destroyer to the battleship's more unusual senses.

"Right." Dreadnaught affirmed in a tone clearly meant to save her pride. "I suppose asking her couldn't hurt."

Bearn however was a step ahead, already firing up her turbines by the time the battleship had noted the girl's presence.

As Bearn approached with Dreadnaught close in tow, the girl offered a crisp and clearly well rehearsed salute to the pair, clicking her boots audibly and offering a stern, "ma'ams".

Bearn returned a gesture that was as much a wave as it was a salute, while Dreadnaught offered a traditional British salute.

"My my, isn't she just the cutest!" Bearn muttered ruffling the destroyer's Navy issue patrol cap. "It looks like they hold you American girls to a very high standard." The Carrier muttered. "If I didn't know better I would think you a sailor."

Stewart took a half step back, offering a subtly annoyed glare at the Frenchwoman "I hold myself to my own standard." she answered sternly, "as acting aide to Commander Andrews it's important for me to present myself professionally.

"But of course! And a most excellent job you are doing!" Bearn affirmed, grinning proudly.

Dreadnaught sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, "Bearn dear, I know you are French, but please do try and behave yourself."

The carrier returned a confused glance to Dreadnaught, pondering the battleship's comment with confused glances between the two assembled warships before turning back to Dreadnaught, "I do not know what this means but I think I am offended."

"Again, I know you are French." Dreadnaught offered dryly, before addressing the smallest of the assembled warships, "right, Miss-"

"Stewart ma'am, midshipman Stewart." Stewart affirmed standing slightly straighter than before.

"I see the American Shipgirls are more organized than I expected." Dreadnaught muttered offering her hand to the girl, "Dreadnaught."

Stewart's expression conveyed the closest thing her professional attitude could convey as a shrug as she returned the gesture, "most of us don't even have ranks to fall into. I asked for one. I felt it important that I know where I fit in."

Dreadnaught offered a confused look but said nothing, Bearn chose to ignore the comment and ruffle he destroyer's hat again with her trademark bubbly grin.

"You are just adorable." Bearn cooed in a sing song tone, ruffling the destroyer's hair, "such a very serious sailor you make!" She reached into the pockets on her blue petticoat before grabbing Stewart's hand and forcing an unseen object into it with a friendly smile. "Maybe with some sweets I can get you to smile."

Stewart's mouth briefly ticked firmly downwards, she opened her hand and gave the small but brightly wrapped orb a derisive look "Thanks you ma'am." The destroyer answered in her best 'strictly business' voice.

Bearn laughed mirthfully and gave Stewart's head another happy ruffle. "You are most welcome little one! But I still must find a way to make you smile, it looks like candies will not work," she cooed happily before her eye caught the unimpressed gaze of Dreadnaught. Bearn offered a short, laugh. "But it seems like our British friend is uninterested in this as of now. Maybe you can take us to your Commander so she can get back to being so very serious and English?"

Stewart's frown subsided ever slightly following the request. "Right this way, ma'ams," she offered, gesturing to the door behind her.

Bearn followed quickly ahead of the other two, followed by dreadnaught after the later lost a brief yet polite battle of instances to Stewart over who held the door open for the other.

"If you'll permit me to lead, the Commander's office is just up ahead." the destroyer offered, letting the door close behind them and focusing on the tiled white hallway ahead of the trio.

"Most excellent," Bearn commented, happily patting the destroyer on the back.

Dreadnought followed in back, pondering the sterile military look of the facility's walls and various room's, noting the lack of personnel and other Shipgirls with trepidation, wringing her Royal Navy in her hands idly, "If I may ask," the battleship interjected, "how often do you find yourself sortieing from this post?"

Stewart gave a glance back before slowing down and matching pace with the battleships to answer her directly to her, "not often ma'am, I'm mostly here for command and control, acting as a liaison and aide to the commander. Though I hear I may be sent back out soon with the fleet reforming."

"Oh!" Bearn cooed from the front, tworling on her heels to change facing though continuing to walk backwards "it will be nice for you to get fresh sea air, no?"

Stewart offered an unconvinced grimace and sped up slightly to take the lead of the formation. "We're almost there, her office is just around the corner."

The comment only barely registered to Dreadnaught as an immense force impacted her at flank speed, catching her completely off guard and tumbling her into darkness.

 _apologies if this feels like a rewrite of the last one, there was originally a three parter that was intended to parallel itself, original stuff next chapter, I swear._


	32. Chapter 32: Introductions

Iowa held the folder in her hand, steady shaking and a steel grip, steadily crumpling the contents into less and less identifiable sheets of information.

"Dreadnought." She muttered with quiet resignation. "I-" she started again before her expression deepened into a further frown.

Commander Andrews for her part did an excellent job of hiding the growing the battleship's reaction imparted upon her, parcing herself through a folder to help distract from Iowa. "The Royal Navy apparently was just as desperate to find a place for her as we are for you and frankly she's about as unprepared for modern warfare as you are." the Navy woman sighed and finally made eye contact with Iowa, offering a sympathetic expression. "I understand this may be a distressing combination, so I'll pull you out of the squadron if needed, we can always find mission support roles for you and your sister."

"No." Iowa interjected harshly, before taking surprise at her own sudden outburst. "I mean-, I'll grant you that this is not a welcome change but-" she hesitated, searching for words. "I got my fair share of being a mission support ship."

"I stand by my promise that the US Navy won't scrap or sink you, even if you don't trust me on my principles, we really do need you, no matter the mission."

"I do, I really do welcome the opportunity, the circumstances are just-" Iowa searched for the word. "Jarring. I certainly wouldn't have expected her to be an option."

"I could switch the roster we've established," commander Andrews explained, "the Japanese are working on sticking Kawachii's turrets back on. It might take six months, but had you refused we were going to stick her with dreadnought. And I know that the Swedes have a few older designs that-"

Iowa shook her head, "No." She interrupted quietly. "I may have my frustrations with Dreadnought but I don't hate the woman, I don't think my personal feelings will cause trouble."

There was a silence as the answer was mulled over. "And Oregon?" Andrews asked pensively.

Iowa laughed quietly, "they didn't call her the 'Bulldog of the Fleet', for nothing, she's a stubborn gal in a great many ways. It's going to be a hard sell" Iowa reflected wistfully "still, she's my sister, I think she'll at least trust me enough not to make a scene or at least notcause an international crisis.

Andrews sighed with relief, "I would like to talk a bit more about her actually, I've read several books over her history," she explained, gesturing towards several lengthy tomes, "but there's only so much I can gain from that."

"Certainly," Iowa replied, smiling lightly, "what would you like to know?"

A sudden and violent crashing noise interrupted the conversation as the painted concrete wall to Iowa's back erupted into rubble, sending debris, dust, and the several pieces of art that hung on it, crashing through the room accompanied by the for of two individuals, one in a clear bear hugged tackle around the other.

Iowa shot up quickly, kicking her chair out from under her as she rapidly materializing her mismatched turrets around her flanks, quickly assessing the danger.

Staccatos of tiny rifle and machine gun fire began to echo through the melee as the aggressor pulled herself up, angling her own cannons in seemingly random directions and instead focusing her efforts at throwing wide swinging punches directly into the face of the warship below her.

Initiative soon fell to the ship on the bottom, as the larger woman recovered her composure and rolled her opponent to the ground, returning the favor with heavy handed strikes into her opponent's bridge, a wide maniacal grin taking hold on her face.

Oregon, despite being pinned, continued fighting her opponent, strikkng the British warships flanks and midsection, the sound of the blow mixing with the faint groan of buckling squeals. Between the two, blue clad American marines uttered excited squeaks and began anchoring grappling hooka itno Dreadnought's midsection. Swinging through the melee with Kragg-Jorgenson rifles and proudly brandished flags. They were met with determined counterfire from Dreadnought's rigging.

"Oregon!" Iowa announced in an alarmed tone, finally gauging the nature of the fighting. Lunging towards dreadnought, Iowa plowed hard into the battleship's side, kicking her heels into the floor to pull the larger ship of her sister. To her credit, dreadnought staggered noticeably before twisting herself Against Iowa and offering an elbow to Iowa's bridge, sending the America sprawling backwards onto the ground.

Dreadnought turned to bring full attention to eliminate the stunned threat, but missed the importance of the old one as Oregon staggered back to her feet. With the newer ship distracted, Oregon used the opportunity to deliver a fierce sidelong kick to Dreadnought's now exposed stomach.

The British vessel was hardly slowed, letting out a predatory laugh before staggering. herself back towards the hole in the wall to meet both opponent's at once, her expression one of savage glee. "Come on then you bloody cunts." She announced her voice only barely betraying the beating she had taken. "you want to prove you're not a bunch of washed up has beens."

Oregon began to move to the flank to engage, hands held in a defensive posture.

It was for the second time a loud bang signaled an interruption as a series of five naval guns discharged one by one.

A silence descended as all three warships had their attention drawn to the noise.

Stepping through the gap in the wall, USS Stewart wore a blank expression, the telltale wisps of smoke drawing from the series of cannons attached to her for arms and flanks betrayed the origins of the noise. Pausing only to step over the rubble and shoot a death glare at Iowa, the destroyer stepped to the center of the room, clicked her heels together and offered a crisp salute. "USS Stewart reporting as ordered." She announced in a professional tone.

"Thank you Stewart," Commander Andrews muttered, offering a half hearted salute in return as she slowly ascended from behind her desk. "I must say, that was rather exciting." she added in a bitter tone.

"Most exciting indeed." A light hearted French voice sounded from the new gap in the wall as Bearn stepped through the hole, daintily avoiding rubble. "I am pleased I am to have such fierce battleships defending me, but what's do you say to keeping our fighting against the enemy, yes?

Iowa was the first to register the French Woman's reply and the first of the battleships to speak up. Offering a sheepish grin, "that seems amiable," she muttered with embarrassment, rubbing her jaw absentmindedly, where a faint bruise was growing.

Oregon said nothing and instead continued to offer a distrustful glare at Dreadnought before spitting a glob of blood onto the carpet in response, drawing an irritated grimace from the room's owner. Oregon ignored her look and after fishing through her mouth with her tongue followed the blood up with a tooth. Behind her Dreadnought finished a muttered sentence with a half audible "daft bitches."

It was on after Andrews began filing through her desk that Dreadnought glanced towards the desk as if only now registering that someone occupied it. "Apologies ma'am." she offered in a polite southern English accent. "It's been awhile since I've been in a brawl and never with someone close to my own tonnage. I lost myself a bit there." She offered an outstretched hand to the Commander. "HMS Dreadnought, world's first at our service."

Andrews did her best to ignore the fact that one of Dreadnought's fingers was bent completely backwards and shook the hand, "a pleasure." She muttered. "I must say that was quite the entrance."

Dreadnought laughed, "hardly planned, I didn't even realize I had been tackled through the right office until I saw your name. That battleship of yours seems to be quite the excitable one."

It was Oregon's turn to finish a muttered sentence with colorful profanity.

Ignoring the hostility, from the back of the group Bearn pushed herself past the Americans towards Dreadnought's flank and up past the British warship to the center of the desk. "And I am Bearn!" she announced happily to the woman occupying it, offering an outstretched hand.. "It is so good to meet you."

"A pleasure." The American officer muttered absentmindedly shaking the hand before quickly turning her attention quickly back to the battleships. "Now. I was planning on smoother introductions, but I guess that's out of the picture and at this point I've been pretty effectively derailed" She muttered dryly. "that being said I'd be remiss if I didn't at least tell you what's going on before sending you off for the evening." She began.

"The quick and dirty is that we're building a coastal defense force to patrol the Japanese isles. The Royal Navy has so kindly offered Dreadnought on loan to our coastal defense program as well as insisted on assigning her some escorts, Zubian and Ardent were chosen as they are already here and not in a mission critical role." phe turned her attention to Iowa and did her best to ignore the death glares Oregon was sending her. "On the American side of things Iowa and Oregon are to take Stewart as their escort, the later of who will be in strictly administrative control of the fleet until we can find a flagship that won't cause Oregon to throw someone through a wall."

Oregon's glare didn't abate or increase, but the additional glob of blood she spat on the floor effectively expressed her annoyance at the comment.

The officer finally gave the Warship a reproaching grimace, "I've elected to be generous given the nature of your return but I would like to discuss proper behavior and conduct as a US Navy warship."

Oregon said nothing.

"And on France's side, Bearn!" The carrier provided excitedly, still positioned near the desk, "I will do my very very best to keep all of you safe from airplanes."

Andrews for the first time focused exclusively in the carrier. "Yes. We've been negotiating pretty intently with our allies for some aviation assets. I'm pleased France was willing to send their finest carrier. You won't need to worry either miss Bearn, you'll be operating exclusively under land based aircraft, you'll be well protected yourself."

For the first time Bearn's bubbly aura faded slightly, "Oh." She muttered, surprised disappointment encroaching on her accent. "Very good."

"Right I think that does about the down and dirty, a bit different to the briefing I had planned Does anyone have any questions?"

Iowa was the first, briefly raising her hand before a pained grimace caused her to lower it again and she decided to simply speak up, "I thought I already had an assigned escort, where are they in all of this?"

"The taffies are off to convoy duty between Japan and Taiwan, they'll still be around. The light cruisers are being pushed to support Japanese surface groups."

"With due respect the real goal here," Dreadnought followed, crossing her arms authoritatively, "are Japan's coasts really vulnerable? Furthermore why Japan?"

The officer considered the question briefly, "The idea is to offer relief to the heavy warships that act to assist anti submarine patrols that get jumped close to friendly waters, in Europe these heavy warships would be often too much, but with the large distances it's hard here for the Abyssals to get anything bigger than a light cruiser past the recon aircraft." She took a moment to let the report sink in "I'd be lying to you if the propaganda value of having an international task force with American surface prominence wasn't something that went unconsidered."

Dreadnought's demeanor took a cold turn, though the battleship said nothing.

"This is still a combat assignment." the commander assuaged, "and you still hold an important role in the defense of your countries allies. " that's all you have for me, I'll get an email sign to show you to your quarters, that'll be all, Stewart will brief you on training and classes in the morning."

A series of collective affirmatives marked the departure of the task force with a few well concealed limps.

Wordlessly, at their departure, the Commander pulled open her lowest desk drawer, removing several piles of folders and boxed mementos from her career and stacked them on her desk before settling on her prize. Briefly considering the crystal glass she pulled out with the near full bottle of Scotch she instead set it near the growing pile and uncorked the bottle, taking a healthy swing before slamming it down.

"Fuck." She muttered to no one in particular, glancing over the chaotic rubble pile that her office had become.


	33. Chapter 33: Misery Loves Company

Stewart pushed her way through the growing crowd, a combination of superior horsepower and her angry glares causing the crowd of mixed military personnel to part before her. Her gaze fixated down the hallway, she hardly noticed that many of the people she haphazardly brushed aside held significantly more rank than her.

As she broke her way to the edge of the crowd, that familiar silhouette of two Fletcher class destroyers stood out among the gaggle of mixed camouflage patterns and dress uniforms.

"Hailey. Franks." Stewart called out tersely, staring down the pair of assembled destroyer girls.

Hailey jumped slightly at the expression the Clemson directed her way. "We couldn't stop her." The Fletcher pleaded. "We were talking and then suddenly she was heading out at flank speed. We didn't even see the limey cruiser until Oregon had tackled her through the wall."

"Did she kill anyone?" Franks pleaded in a loud whisper, a terrified expression on the destroyer's face "Please tell me she didn't kill anyone."

Stewart let out a quiet sigh and held up a hand to silence the pair. "I need to know where she is."

Franks look pale and quietly pointed down the hall. "Iowa's room." The Fletcher muttered quietly.

Stewart said nothing, pinwheeling on one foot and marchering herself quickly towards the dorms, relying on the increasing number of armed marines headed towards the commotion to part for her rather than allowing them to delay her advance.

Pivoting down the hallways and passing mostly empty doorways she stopped by a familiar door, and knocked right below the label that read "USS IOWA BATTLESHIP NO. 4."

Allowing for a pregnant pause and with no answer forthcoming, the destroyer pushed her way into the room. She was greated by a scene of absolute chaos. The bedroom the pre-dreadnoughts shared was currently a disaster. While all of Iowa's possessions were unharmed, the empty beds and Oregon's sleep area had been utterly demolished. Wood and feathers were spread near evenly in a pattern that respectfully avoided the younger battleship's living space. The perpetrator of the anger driven although well directed rampage remained in the room, sitting on a deeply cracked chair and gazing out the window over the ocean view, her expression near blank as her eyes looked out on the horizon.

Stewart sighed and stepped past the threshold, dodging the larger bits of damaged furniture and thrown about refuse. Finally finding solid ground near enough to the battleship, the took position off of Oregon's left shoulder. Drawing a flask from her left breast pocket, the destroyer surveyed the older ship intently before drawing a deep drink and offering the flask to the battleship.

Oregon, deep in her thoughts, still refused the acknowledge the destroyer's presence.

Stewart spared a glance out the window. Beyond the long Sandy beaches and bright blue skies the distant form of a Japanese patrol group returning could be seen, though the exact members of the group couldn't be identified. The destroyer took another drink.

"They almost fooled me again." Oregon offered, the words coming out in a quiet and melancholy tone instead of the bitter anger the younger girl expected. "The Navy, I mean- I saw Iowa so confident and happy and almost convinced myself it'd be different this time."

Stewart passed the flask, this time Oregon took it without acknowledgement, upending the contents and returning an empty container.

"It did feel good to finally get a few hits in on that bitch though." Oregon muttered a slight grin forming beneath the layers of resignation, "she wasn't as tough as they told us she was."

"Few of us are." The destroyer reflected idly, returning her flask to coat pocket, not bothering to grant eye contact to the battleship. "You certainly aren't."

Oregon looked almost surprised at the comment. "I'm a god damn battleship, "she announced, venom taking root in her voice. "Me and my sister rewrote the book on naval warfare in the blood of the Spanish Navy."

"Sure. But that was nearly a century and a half ago and with a body of steel and iron." Stewart muttered, still focused on the outdoor scene. "As far as I'm concerned you're no different than your sister, more concerned with moping about and trying to raise pity than actually proving yourselves."

Oregon's fist clenched audibly and seemed to tremble slightly with the force of contracting muscles. "Don't you dare speak ill of my sister." Oregon spat venomously.

Stewart said nothing, electing to cross her arms defiantly and stare down the battleship. Her fairy crew, steely as her, calmly passed the call to battle stations in the shadow of Oregon's fury.

"Do you know how hard she fought for this country? How hard we all fought?! We bled and killed for what- to have girls like that bitch dreadnought to come in here and sweep up the glory and toss us into the scrap heap."

The destroyer remained immobile.

"Do you have any idea what that's like?" Oregon yelled with fury, a glob of angry spittle landing seemingly unnoticed on Stewart's cheek *Any idea what it's like to have it happen twice no less?" she added, a faint tone of hurt underpinning her anger.

Stewart snorted. "This is what I'm talking about," the destroyer muttered with quiet and cold words, "Not all of us got a fresh and eager reception on our return. Not all of us were handed a star role in the fucking show right at day one and you and Iowa just use that to bemoan and bitch about being replaced. if you're not willing to take that opportunity for yourself, maybe you should make focus on keeping your sister useful enough that the Navy won't drag outside Pearl and shoot her full of holes just to see what happens."

For a brief few seconds the room was quiet. It looked as though Oregon's fury was soon to reach a violent crescendo and the look of furious defiance that Stewart offered in exchange seemed no less likely to embrace conflict. After a staredown that seemed to take eons, the pregnant pause began to falter as a resigned sigh and a defeated expression took root on Oregon face. The battlewagon collapsed backwards into her chair with a tired motion, staring lazily at the ground. "You're right." She muttered with defeat. "I know you're right. It's just seeing her- seeing dreadnought-" the waship trailed off. "It's like seeing all my failures and fears all lined up in a neat little row."

Stewart nodded glumly her defiance shaped by the closest thing to sympathy her face could hold. "I know my position here is mostly because I can type and speak Japanese. But I won't stand for you doing stupid stuff like that again. If not for your sake than for Iowa's. If you screw up and become a liability Iowa may well be pulled into whatever consequences mark your actions"

Oregon nodded.

As if summoned, a knock sounded at the door and it swung open lightly to reveal the form of Iowa. In one hand, the battleship held a generic brown paper bag the shape of which offered suspicion that several bottles were hidden inside. In the other hand, she bore an enormous tub of chocolate ice cream. The nervous look she held with the expectation of facing Oregon's fury melted with a visible sag of the shoulders when her older sister greeted her instead with a sad half smile and actual eye contact. The relief fell slightly further into worried confusion upon seeing Stewart.

"Iowa" Stewart greeted with a terse and professional nod.

The battleship narrowed her eyes. "what are you doing here?" she muttered with fraint traces of suspicion bleeding into her words.

Stewart stood up, not sparing a glance for either battleship and instead heading straight out the door. "I was just leaving." she offered tonelessly to Iowa as she passed out the entrance.

Iowa shot a suspicious glare at the destroyer's passing "What did she want." She asked Oregon, "she's not trying to intimidate or scold you is she?"

Oregon smirked slightly, turning back to her sister. "She was simply asking me not to cause any more trouble for myself."

"she's like that," Iowa muttered, slamming her ice cream on her desk, "always trying to get everyone to tow her perfect little line."

"Her reasoning was sound." Oregon offered with a shrug, "she seems like a nice enough girl."

Iowa let out a low grumble as she set the bag down next to he ice cream, doing her best to ignore the sizable damage that Oregon's rampage caused.

"She is a bitch though," Oregon conceded, "she definitely reminds me of more of my senior enlisted than I care to admit."

Iowa laughed, pulling a series of rum bottles out from the paper bag. "I'll drink to that." She muttered before tossing one nonchalantly to her sister, "but at this point I'll drink to just about anything."

"I'll just drink to what your drinking to," Oregon offered with a melancholic half smile before opening the bottle and upending the contents.


	34. Chapter 34: Within these Walls

"Ardent!" A familiar voice cried, barreling into the quarters shared by the pair of British destroyers on post, kicking into a pile of laundry left lying about and coming to a stumbling stop, kicking the pile up in a hail of soiled garments.

Ardent didn't even bother looking surprised, quietly sparing a glance to Zubian she let out an annoyed sigh before folding her glasses deliberately and placing her book firmly on her bedside table to convey her annoyance.

Standing up from the pile of discarded laundry, her hat hanging lopsided on her head after the impact, Zubian anxiously stared at Ardent, her slight fidgeting and worried expression increasing in intensity with every second that the A Class refused to take her bait.

Ardent sighed and reached for her book again before the tribal class let out a anxious squeak that seemed to indicate that Zubian was nearing her breaking point. Grabbing the bridge of her nose in frustration, Ardent sighed deeply again and turned to Zubian. "Fine," she muttered dejectedly, "I'll take the bait, what's got your panties in a twist?"

"She's hurt." Zubian loudly declared with alarm.

Ardent blinked in confusion, before her expression of dejected annoyance returned "Zubian, you're going to have to clarify. Who's hurt."

"The battleship!" The tribal class declared with mounting agitation, flailing her arms in dramatic fashion towards the door. "Our battleship, she's british!"

Ardent sighed again and reached for her book, "Zubes, I've told you, the Kongous aren't British, nor are they battleships, despite what they claim, they lie about pretty much everything."

Zubian pouted and shot an angry glare at the A-Class "we saw her, she wasn't a Kongou, it looked like-" Zubian hesitated, mulling over her thoughts, her eyes growing wide with sudden realization, "we think she looked like Dreadnought."

Ardent raised a doubtful eyebrow, "a battered HMS Dreadnought is wandering alone and unescorted through our port in Japan?" She asked dryly, " the port in which, last I checked, we're the sole British ships stationed."

"Yes." Zubian confirmed firmly after mulling over her thoughts. The destroyer leaned up against her bedpost, crossing her arms with a twinge of smugness. "We remember her coat," she mentioned with deliberate pride.

Ardent rubbed the bridge of her nose again "Well- go give her a hand than." she mused, picking up her book and opening to the page she left on, "I'll stay here and get the place tidied up and set a kettle on."

The older girl smiled widely at the suggestion "Right!" Zubian affirmed proudly, "I'll bring her back so we can make sure she's safe!"

"You do that." Ardent mumbled, returning her glasses to her face, "and remember if the ship isn't Dreadnought, keep looking, where there's one vaguely British old time ship, the rest naturally follow."

"Of course!" Zubian proclaimed proudly, "we'll go get Dreadnought."

With that, Ardent rolled over, electing to read on her side and excused herself from any further conversation with Zubian. The A Class paid no further mind to her comrade beyond a grunt of acknowledgement and a turn off the page.

The door swung open loudly and protested against the hinges as Zubian took to her new task eagerness causing Ardent to let out an annoyed groan.

The first thing Zubian did was return to the last place she saw Dreadnought walking. Barreling down the hallway at an excited jog and dodging various uniformed personnel she ignoring the various complaints and chidings the nearly missing other pedestrians caused. It wasn't until she reached her last contact that she paused, the location, a nearby intersection in the hallways, marking a connection between the dorms and offices, was near empty.

Getting down on all fours Zubian elected to comb over the tile floor for traces of the battleship, anything to serve as a breadcrumb to guide the destroyer on her self appointed quest.

Her focus entirely captivated by looking for clues, Zubian was caught completely off guard when someone managed to barrel right over her, pushing her backwards and flinging her to the ground. The newcomer let out a startled shriek and flinging her book down the hall with the force of the impact, collapsed in an undignified lump on top of Zubian. The sound of shattering tile accompanying the terrific crash.

Zubian attempted to cry out at the impact, but a fierce elbow to her stomach left her breathless. The destroyer elected instead to wheeze desperately on the ground beneath the girl for the daunting length of time it took the newcomer to recompose herself long enough to stop apologizing and give Zubian space to breath

"Hey ooshoes." the Tribal class wheezee between labored breaths

Ushio proved incapable of responding in anything but incoherent apologetic babbling

Zubian let out a labored laugh and pulled herself up, wincing as she sat up straight. "We're okay," the English ship soothed, "you just hit us pretty hard."

The Japanese destroyer still appeared near the breaking point with guilt, the slight sniffle that sounded in the lulls of her apologies and the tears brimming in the corners of her eyes made her worry abundantly clear.

Finally standing unsteady legs, Zubian shot the girl an adventurous grin and offered her hand to the younger destroyer "You want to come with us on our mission Ooshoes?"

Ushio slowed her sniffing her expression reflecting miserable confusion.

"We're trying to find HMS Dreadnought," Zubian announced happily, the wheezing shortness of breath now only faint in her voice, the destroyer reached down to pick up Ushio's discarded manga. "She's somewhere in the base and she looked like she had been in a nasty fight. Ardent suggested we get her back to base and get her some tea and scones to make sure she's not hurt too much." The Tribal class thrust the book into her Japanese compatriot's hands with a bright smile. "Do you want to help?" She asked cheerily.

Ushio hesitated, her head bobbing in only the faintest trace of a nod before perking up suddenly as if only now discovering the question's nature "Yes!" She decided in a quiet but excited tone. "We have to help."

Zubian smiled widely with delight, grabbing Ushio's arm and pulling her down the hallway with enthusiastic zeal. She pulled the eternally nervous destroyer behind her for nearly a hundred meters of quick jogging before stopping suddenly at an intersection. Her quick halt caused the Fubuki to impact lightly against Zubian's back. Ushio let out a quiet startled squeal, though her Tribal class counterpart seemed not to notice.

The British ship glanced back over her shoulder, dropping her grip on Ushio's wrist. "We don't know where we're supposed to go," Zubian deadpanned.

Worry formed in Ushio's expression over Zubian's sudden uncertainty. "The docks?" She quietly suggested, "or maybe she went to get some food?" She asked in a manner phrased as much as a question as it was a suggestion.

Zubian for her part grinned heartily at the later. "Good idea," she affirmed, grabbing Ushio again by the wrist. "Let's go get some food, it'll help us think better."

Ushio let out no verbal protests and allowed herself to be dragged on.

Dreadnought pushed herself further into the corner, ignoring the passing confused and worried looks people passing in and out of the mess hall's kitchen shot her as they went about their duties. Worriedly, she added another napkin dispenser to the impromptu privacy curtain she had assembled.

Her captain continued to pace around the bridge, the action causing her anxiety to raise with each passing step. The figure paused suddenly, as if reaching an epiphany, removed it's tiny pipe beneath the greying mustache and let out a triumphant squeak of glory. The captain dramatically let out a declaration to his crew assembled on the table, gesticulating wildly from a window on the bridge.

The tiny figures of the blue clad Royal Marines racked the charging handle on their Vickers, the assistant gunner's small pinkish hands readying a cloth strip of bullets up for feeding. A sailor bearing "HMS DREADNOUGHT" on his comically small hat, placed a tiny apple on the squirming target.

Panic surged in the Battleship's eyes and the unveiling scene, "No!" Dreadnought dramatically declared, slamming her hand down between the Marines and their target. "We're not going to shoot them!"

On the other side on her hand from the Vickers a pile of tiny figures began to squirm in panic. Pushing hard against their bindings, they were quieted down by a barked order and a brandished bayonet from one of Dreadnought's crew. The tiny sailor picked the apple back up off the Americans and blew a raspberry at them.

"Stop telling them you're going to stick them like a bloody Christmas hog." The battleship whispered in quiet panic, hovering over the bayonet wielding marine. "The bloody American is crazy enough without her crew giving her a good reason to want to fight us."

A squeak sound from her bridge. Somewhere deep within her an armory locker opened and sabers and pistols began being doled out in earnest.

"No. Killing then is not an option, they're still our allies, even if that crazy American willed them into boarding me." Dreadnought reddened slightly at the statement, glancing down at the offending pile of struggling American Marines.

Her captain let out another squeak, pounding its tiny fist into its palm, in an effort to accentuate its tirade of disappointed and angry squeaks.

"Yes, very shite allies." the woman agreed, "and no- we certainly can't untie them or let them back aboard."

The inner turmoil the battleship suffered continued to deepen, her thoughts making her deaf to the excited creeping of a figure behind her.

"Maybe we could leave them adrift?" She pondered idly, that doesn't really count for killing them does it?" Dreadnought hesitated as the excited squeaks of her captain ridiculed her suggestion. "Yes I'm aware we're on land." She snapped briefly. The battleship let out a tired groan and rubbed her temples in frustration.

"Are you really Dreadnought?" A English accented voice asked from behind the distracted battleship, an edge of excitement that threatened to blow over into celebratory fangirling obvious at every syllable.

Dreadnought quickly looked up and whirled around. Behind her stood an extremely excited tribal class destroyer, the nervous excitement of the girl obvious to the battleship even as flustered and surprised as she was. With a glance down over the napkin-dispenser prison she had constructed a feeling of panic surged into the ship, pulling a discarded meal tray from the table and slammed tpit over the top of the improvised walls. "Um- yes." Dreadnought muttered, flustering over the question. "Yes that's me."

The girl squealed with delight, shaking her fists in excited glee. "We're Zubian." She declared enthusiastically, before pulling another far less enthusiastic girl more directly into Dreadnought's view. "She's Ooshoes."

"A-A pleasure." Dreadnought managed to stammer out, propping herself more firmly against the walls of her impromptu prison.

"We're here to help." Zubian declared proudly, completely oblivious of Dreadnought's efforts to hide the impromptu prison camp

"Help?" the battleship squeaked out.

"You're hurt." Zubian noted with a thin tone of chastisement backing up the destroyer's words. "You're bleeding and you lost a tooth." Zubian stood back briefly before pushing herself into Dreadnought's face with an uncomfortable intensity that caused the battleship to back herself further against the table. "Several teeth," the Tribal corrected tersely after an intense examination of Dreadnought's face from several angles.

"Oh right, the fistfight." Dreadnought recalled offhandedly, tonguing her missing teeth idly. "I'm quite alright I just-" a small rifle shot sounded from inside the the barricade along with the excited squeaking cries of prison guards announcing an escape attempt. Dreadnought froze briefly, sparing a worried look into the perimeter. "Actually I could use a hand," she muttered dourly.

The terrified uncertain looks that Ushio gave the napkin dispenser wall wasn't reflected in the least on Zubian's face. The British destroyer positively beamed at the prospect of assisting the battleship.

"Do you have somewhere a little less public where we could speak?" The Battleship nervously muttered, eyeing the unfolding chaos in the impromptu prison before her.


End file.
